Atonement
by SchwarzerWolf
Summary: Following the outbreak of one of Talon's most valuable assets in regards to espionage and assassination. Reaper was sent by the Talon Council to apprehend and return the agent known as Widowmaker after her conditioning has malfunctioned/deteriorated due to unknown factors, an event which will cause two Talon operatives - seeking Atonement. (ReaperWidow) (M for future use)
1. Chapter 1: A Promise

**AN: This story is the more canonical (and can be considered the more 'up to date') version of my separate story 'Bite of the Spider, Pain from Death' which was discontinued at the beginning of this year.**

 **I hope you enjoy reading this 1st chapter of WidowReaper goodness and post a review regardless of positive or negative feedback. I'm happy to read any criticism that comes my way.**

* * *

 **" _Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death." – Jean Jacques Rousseau_**

* * *

Reaper stood silently as he lurked over the edge of the hovership, overlooking the main courtyard to Chateau Guillard – the tall statue of the marble bust standing tall and centred, it's concrete texture shimmering as the moonlight glistened off it's surface. He growled solemnly as he leapt off the vehicle and landed with a light thud against the stone ground. He watched as the Talon pilot nodded as a confirmation for his departure and the ship's engines roared to life, sending the vessel forward and disappearing into the dark horizon.

Reaper's eyes scouted his environment. There was no trace of light to be found in the main castle nor in the courtyard, through strained vision – bodies of Talon soldiers were scattered against the walls and pavements. The wraith takes several steps forward before being halted as his intercom received an incoming message. With two clawed fingers, he tapped his earpiece and proceeded to speak.

"Reaper here." He murmured huskily, aware of the dangers that may lurk around him.

"Remember Reaper…" The voice of Moira was cold and unforgiving; her accent twisted and turned with every syllable – sending a foreign chill down the wraith's spine, "Larcroix is to be considered _extremely_ dangerous. Several recovery teams were sent to her last reported location, none of which returned nor were heard from again."

"It looks like I found your missing teams…" Reaper growled in distaste as he walked over a Talon soldier's corpse and continued further into the dark abyss of the Chateau. "Fill me in Moira. What. Happened?" Silence hovered for a few moments before the Talon councilwomen sighed in a tone of grief and disappointment.

"She simply escaped."

"Just…escaped?" Reaper's tone escalated slightly before returning to a more composed state as he entered the estate's interior setting.

"We don't know how nor why she managed to free herself from the procedure – however before our surveillance monitors could even alert us to Larcroix's outbreak, she had already escaped our compound."

Reaper paused, stones shifting forward as his heavy boots kicked them down the dark corridors of the castle. He turned his head over his shoulder and observed his surroundings, the eerie silence of these ancient walls accompanied by the slandered waves crashing against the Chateau's foundation hindered Reaper's train of thought. Yet the longer he stood stationary, the more he realised that he was not alone on this deserted fortress.

"Moira…cut the line. I think I'm being watched."

"She is to be subdued safely, NOT killed. Do you understand that Gabriel?"

"Mm." Reaper hummed as his hands reached into his coat and revealed two of his heavy Hellfire shotguns and resting his arms next to his thighs.

"Good luck. Bring her back in one piece. Moira out."

Reaper continued to explore the deserted estate. No matter which corridor he turns towards, it would be littered with the corpses of Talon soldiers and bullet casings that were dispensed on the ruched carpet floor. He felt little as he passed the deceased bodies of his subordinates; Talon served no personal attachment to him or his goals. They were simply a means to an end, that or he was already desensitized to his own pain and experiences of war that he never bothered to care. However, there was one reason he came to look for Widowmaker alone – it began with a promise. A promise he intended to keep.

The wraith finds himself in the main dining hall, the noble banners holding a revered coat of arms were depicted clearly, even in the darkened and gloomy state of the castle – having nothing but the moonlight shining brightly through the antique windows. The long dining table was situated neatly and untouched, a bowl was situated on the other side of the table to where Reaper was standing. Someone ate from that bowl recently. As he moved on from the dining hall, the air saturated with a sense of a woman's aroma, keeping Reaper alert and notifying him that his target was not far. As the dining hall integrated into a small personal study, Reaper realised that this area held a heavy presence. The study was kept tidy, holoscreens were on display – depicting articles long forgotten to the pages of time, large weapon cases were opened, inside was the outline of where Widowmaker's rifle would be placed. He loomed around, closer to the where the holoscreens were set up – his eyes scanning the contents quickly.

' _ **MURDUR OF OVERWATCH OFFICIAL'**_

' _ **MISSING WIFE CONNECTED TO THE LARCROIX MURDUR?'**_

' _ **THE COLLAPSE OF OVERWATCH? TALON SUSPECTED IN INVOLVEMENT OF THE LARCROIX INCIDENT'**_

The headlines were nearly endless. Reaper pondered for several moments, attempting to piece together with what little information Moira provided him. Widowmaker…escaping the main Talon compound, exiling herself with no means of communication and subsequently killing any Talon force that sets foot on her estate. To Reaper it meant one of two things, her procedure to her conditioning has somehow deteriorated or malfunctioned – sending her on a crazed killing spree and utilising her skills to achieve isolation. Or the other in which Reaper did not think was possible in the first place. Maybe, just maybe. _She_ returned.

As Reaper realised that there was nothing left for him to observe in Widowmaker's private study, he begins to resume his hunt for the missing sniper. As he approached the east side of the Chateau from the study, his eyes instantly caught an item of interest. Even in the darkest atmosphere, Reaper's vision was not deterred. Against an empty bookshelf stood a lone frame standing on one of its beams. Reaper walked towards the bookshelf and holstered one of his weapons in order to retrieve this object. As Reaper retracted his arm, the moonlight pierced through the heavy shadows and revealed the frame into clear vision. Inside the frame stood an image which nearly made Reaper sigh in sympathy and regret. Though the picture frame's glass container was shattered, the image of Amèlie Larcroix holding her dear husbands hand on the day of their wedding remained unstained and preserved thoroughly.

At that very moment, Reaper remembered a time long ago. When he was once a man that was considered to be a hero. When there was a time he still had comrades he considered friends, a time when a sense of happiness still resided within him. A time where the _promise_ he vowed to keep was made for the sake of his friend.

* * *

 **Larcroix Estate, Post – Omnic Crisis**

Gabriel leaned solemnly over the balcony railing and watched as the trees swerved to the night wind. The sounds of socialising bureaucrats, Overwatch officials and other strings of so-called 'high society' constantly gossiped behind the Blackwatch Commander's back. One does not even need to be a member of a covert-operations division in order to hear the things those people say.

With a stiff glass of brandy in his hand, Reyes raises it to his lips and takes a hefty sip from it, swallowing it down with a hard gulp. The constant talking and bickering of social etiquette and boorish topics of state and personal dramas gave Gabriel an overwhelming headache. For his entire Blackwatch career he had been trying to make people talk – to squeeze every last bit of information out of prisoners, criminals, terrorists and other undesirables. Yet in this moment, just this once, he wished people would just stop with their faceless façades – trying to upkeep their own social status for the sake of appeasing the expectations of others, evidently he thought to himself, that they were slaves to other people's thoughts.

He couldn't give a damn of what other people thought of him. Those who recognised the secretive logo of the Blackwatch insignia situated on his grey military sleeve had their facial expressions gleaming with twisted and distasteful stares. But who were they to judge a man whom they didn't understand? Consequently, Gabriel's ears silenced the eternal sounds of speech and instead listened to the close ocean waves that could be seen in the distance, the sounds of water crashing against the sand drowned out the infernal yapping of social etiquette. A calm composure was held by the Blackwatch Commander and his hand raised his glass to his mouth – this time taking a larger swiv from his preferred brand of liquor.

As he began to lower his guard to the outside environment, his senses immediately lit up as footsteps emerged from the interior of the estate and entered into the balcony space. He turned around, his eyes piercing with hazel intimidation – hoping to scare away to whom he presumed was a wandering guest who waltzed into the wrong area at the wrong time. His gaze warmed as a suited gentleman approached him with no sense of fear or curiosity.

"Sorry I didn't meet you here earlier Gabriel, the Minister for French interior security can prance on and on about the most inferior matters." The man said in a bright and near ironic, apologetic manner.

"I'm glad you agreed to meet me here in person Reyes."

" _Gérard_ , you know how I **despise** social gatherings like these. Why didn't you just send me an email? Or a message for God's sake."

The man smiled, "Oh. I'm fully aware of how events such as these are not to your liking. Why do you think I invited you?" Gérard proceeded to chuckle at his little taunting jest, causing Gabriel to grumble in irritation and shake his head. Yet after several seconds, the Blackwatch Commander cracks a genuine smile and nods solemnly.

"Hmph. Larcroix you dog. How're you my friend? That leg of yours healing alright?"

"Agh, still aches dramatically from time to time – the fracture hasn't completely taken care of itself yet. But I'd rather receive a fracture than be incinerated by that explosion."

"Well…I'm glad you're okay." Reyes replied.

Gérard arrived at Gabriel's side at the balcony railing and leaned one arm over it to support his upper weight, a glass of soft whiskey sitting against his hovering hand.

"I heard about the Venice incident. I mean…everyone has. Mon dieu. So, Antonio's dead. By your hand?"

Reyes paused for several moments before nodding. "Yeah. He's dead. You asked me to come here so you could scold me over it like Jack did?"

Gérard smiles and shakes his head, "On the contrary mon amie. I've come to offer you my appreciation."

Gabriel turns his head and looks at the suited individual with confusion. Gerard sighs and looks over the balcony into the ocean's horizon, reflecting the bright full moon in the night sky.

"I understand that you took Antonio's recent attack on a personal level, and as a result you administered Antonio's fate based on that personal reaction. As your colleague I'd advise against your actions and in fact renounce them. However, as your friend…I thank you. In my mind – you applied the overall justifiable action. Antonio was too big for us to take down legally. His operations were too widespread and his lieutenants serving under him were vast. In the end, Antonio's death was bound to happen."

Reyes sighed and quaffed down the final contents of his glass and relinquishing a satisfied gulp, "I was careless. His death might've just prolonged this unseen war with Talon. And now thanks to me, Overwatch's brand has been tarnished and Blackwatch is now discovered worldwide."

Gerard lifts his arm and pats the Commander on the back, "It doesn't matter my friend. What has happened – happened, no point trying to change the past. But I didn't invite you all the way out to France just to inquire about your actions in Venice. No, no, no that wouldn't do at all." The Frenchman stands upright and signals Gabriel to accompany him back inside his glamorous estate, he places a hand over the Commander's shoulder to help him properly walk. As the two men entered the rowdy commotion they approached the inner hall and situated themselves amongst the crowd in the main ballroom.

"Listen Gabriel." Gérard began slowly as he shifted his bright and upheaved tone to a more condensed and serious stature. "I wanted to talk to you about a more down to Earth issue. A favour if you will."

Gabriel shifted his shoulder slightly as the two men approached an oncoming couple that were just leaving the main ballroom. Gabriel and Gérard situated themselves on a nearby desk and proceeded to continue their affairs.

"What's this about Larcroix?" Gabriel asked as he placed his glass down and folds his arms. Gérard parts his lips before darting his attention elsewhere and freezes momentarily, cracking a hearted smile in the process. Gabriel arches an eyebrow as he follows Gérard's eyes and trails it onward to see what has held his tongue. At that very moment, it was as if time had slowed down to accommodate his vision on what he had believed to his very soul – the most beautiful woman dawned in a lavish dark purple dress, accompanied with Latin styled heels with a purple orchid placed within the thick of her raven locks – contrasting her pale complexion and sparkling silver accessories, proceeded to walk her way down towards the central floor of the room.

"That…" Gérard said suddenly, stealing Gabriel's attention. "…is what this is about."

The Frenchman turned to the Blackwatch Commander and asked in a simple yet stern attitude, "Promise me Gabriel, if anything happens to me – you will _never_ allow any kind of harm or grief fall on her. She's my darling wife, my jewel in the desert…my everything."

Gabriel struggled to say anything for several moments. He turned back to watch as the radiating beauty of Amélie Larcroix stride closer and closer to where they were sitting, parting what metaphorically was considered a sea of other suited individuals as they in turn appreciated the woman's splendor.

"But…why me?" Gabriel murmured finally as he turned quickly back to Gérard. The Frenchman merely smiled, "In this world of conflict and disarray. One must trust those who've lived through it."

Gabriel arched an eyebrow in misunderstanding, yet before he could say anything in reply - the radiant beauty had already arrived.

"Commander Reyes." Amélie began in a soft and welcoming voice, "Mon amour." She said with a smile towards her husband. Gérard smiled back as he reached out towards the woman's hand and kissed it gently, pulling out a chair and offering it to her in the process.

"Gabriel, may I formally introduce my lovely wife Amélie Larcroix."

"…The pleasure's all mine." Reyes murmured in silent awe. The woman smiled at the Blackwatch Commander's fixation on her.

Gérard stands up abruptly, as if ignoring the obvious injury he had endured and shows no pain whatsoever. "Ladies and gentlemen. May I please have your attention." The quiet classical music that had accompanied the event's overall atmosphere gradually dimmed into silence before Gérard proceeded to continue.

"I appreciate the time you've taken out of your daily lives and busy schedules to come see me on the progress of my recovery…and it has been my wholehearted inclination to hold this gathering as a celebration to the efforts of you and the organisations in which we serve under. With the night drawing to a close – I believe it is time for us to relieve ourselves on the dance floor. And please…ladies and gentlemen, refrain yourselves from any more beverages."

The committee snickered and chuckled quietly to the Frenchman's concluding joke and allowed themselves to take their places with their partners on the massive stage that was the ballroom.

Gérard turns to Amélie and says with grief in his heart, "I'm afraid my dear that I'm unable to accompany you on the dance floor this evening. This leg of mine is doing me no good…"

Amélie only smiles and shakes her head, "No need to apologise for anything my love."

The Frenchman nudges Gabriel's left arm, "Perhaps my dear, you would allow Commander Reyes to not leave you isolated from your passion. I know how much you love to dance."

Gabriel's eyes widened and shook his head, "N-no. I wouldn't want to strip you from your right to dance with your wife."

Gérard sighs, "Look at me Gabriel. I'm in no condition to perform ecstatic movements. Please, I insist."

Gabriel looks at Gérard with contempt eyes, and then turns his attention to the woman sitting beside them.

"Well…only if your darling wife agrees to it I suppose."

Amélie nods, "I do not mind at all." After her sentence she smiles. The two partners begin to make their way towards the centre of the ballroom and begin to hold each other's frame in unison. Just then, the musicians began to orchestrate Carlos Gardel's _"Por una cabeza"_ which caused Reyes to change his posture almost mechanically, shifting his right hand closer to the woman's hip and raising his left hand slightly higher. The distance between the two was closed dramatically, allowing Gabriel to discover a further charm to the woman's gleaming beauty.

"Sorry…" Gabriel murmured as he began to guide Amélie in focused and truncated steps of the Tango. "…It's been a while since I danced. Well, been a while since forever really."

Amélie noticed his lack of fluidity and grace – however nodded as she appreciated the fact that he held his composure and stern frame appropriately, all fundamental attributes to the Tango. They continued to wade through the ballroom in time with the music.

"Your posture is outstanding Monsieur." The woman began with pursed lips and a quiet tone, "With your lack of practice, you hold yourself up quite well."

"You think?" Reyes said lacking confidence as he tried not to step on her feet. Amélie smiled as her response.

"Over my shoulder…"

"Huh?"

"Look over my shoulder Monsieur, your eyes are too focused on the ground. Here…"

As the two continued their dance, Amélie released her arm from the taller man's shoulder and reached for his hand, gripping it with delicate fingers and placing his hand closer around her hip. The already close distance between the two shrunk significantly. Gabriel's nostrils flared as Amélie's scent of lavender fragrance assaulted his nose. His mind dazed as the smell of her scent drove him mad with affection, her eyes glistened as her lashes battered together and her lips lined with rouge lipstick shun beneath the lights – _Gérard Larcroix you lucky man_.

"Eyes up." Amélie reminded Gabriel, stealing his attention away from her ravishing complexion and ensured that his eyes faced forward. The other dancers around them made an effort to avoid the pair, Reyes even noticed the jealous looks of other men whom were unsatisfied with their partners.

"Honestly, I didn't expect the Tango would be the concluding dance to an event like this." Gabriel murmured softly.

"Hm, yes. I would've expected the Waltz to sum up this sort of occasion. However my husband does have a tendency to overlook tradition."

"Huh, can't blame your husband. Blame the musicians sitting all comfortable there."

"Mm, I wish someone would've mentioned something to me in advance – this dress is unsuitable for Latin dances."

Reyes proceeded to twirl her in several intervals, sending her dress to spread and swirl along with her momentum before returning to their original stance, then promenading across the dance floor.

"Well, your dress looks wonderful Madame Larcroix. Just be grateful that you were fortunate enough to put on Latin heels." Gabriel smiled as a remark.

"I suppose we should all be grateful that this room could accommodate several guests to dance the Tango." She replied. Gabriel could only nod as his response as he continued to guide her through the midst of dancing couples. The humidity of the room increased gradually as the song carried on into the night. Reyes himself could feel the heat build beneath his military garments but paid it no mind, as his focus was fixated on the woman in front of him.

"I have to admit Madame." Gabriel began quietly, "Occasions like these are not my cup of tea. Me being here in your lovely home is an upfront to be honest."

The woman sighed, "Please. You may address me by name, Amélie. Your presence here is not an upfront, and yes. I can tell that this is not your preferred environment. I must admit in turn, that I hold things like these rather distasteful."

"Oh?" Reyes replied with surprise as he held his posture more confidently and extending his steps further. Amélie chuckled, confirming her statement.

"Yes. Being the wife of a statesman and official to a paramilitary organisation can lead to many tiresome and drawn events." After the woman says this, her body pressed closer to the man's broad frame – urching the Blackwatch Commander. The music ascended, causing Reyes's body to react automatically – holding her close and gliding her across the dance floor. Their faces practically brushed side by side with this swift motion. With these ecstatic movements, Reyes catches constant whiffs the woman's raven hair – driving him mentally crazy. Silently groaning as his mind constantly jogged the process of him _actually_ dancing with this ravaging figure. What cruel God gave him this opportunity? What cruel God decided to allocate her to someone else?

"In all honesty… _Gabriel_. I fear that my own husband has ultimately been married elsewhere. And as am I."

The Blackwatch Commander continued to persist his silence, unsure of what to make of her sudden announcement. Realising the man's confusion and literal interpretation – Amélie chuckled, pearling her glistening teeth while it contrasted her rouge lipstick.

"My darling Gérard is married to his work. And me? I'm married to the art of my craft – dancing."

Gabriel nods, understanding her words and continued to lead this close dance. At the climax of the music – Gabriel turns and twirls the woman, allowing her dress to once more spread across the ballroom and circulate in an entrancing state before finally holding her firmly in a final state, his hand stern behind her back – and her's clenched tightly around the taller man's shoulders. As the music concludes, the surrounding dancers begin to make their way off the dance floor, each one gossiping in murmurs and distant chatter before eventually droning to silence as their eyes returned to the centre of the room.

Gabriel. Amélie. Held tight in each other's arms. Eyes shut and muscles tensed. Their frame frozen like a painting and their emotions near expressionless. Amélie herself, like a swan in the middle of a pond gracefully fluttering her dress like feathers gliding against the surface of the pond's clear water. For Gabriel – nothing but a frame, containing the gorgeous image presented before their audience. For a man 'who hasn't danced in forever', he certainly remembered much from when he did. As Amélie opened her eyes, she smiles towards the Blackwatch Commander, his mouth parting a smile in return.

"All eyes are upon us Commandant Reyes." Amélie whispers into his ear as their frames were still frozen in each other's arms. Gabriel and Amélie slowly released each other from their frames, their eyes slowly observing around the room as eyes of surprise and awe watch them like sulking hawks. Silence followed for several moments before the abrupt sliding of a chair broke the eerie stillness and the sounds of surplus clapping initiated. All eyes diverted their attention to the noise, seeing none other than Gérard Larcroix himself smiling and colliding his open hands together in unison. Not long after, the clapping soon spread around the room as guests and other invitees joined in the occasion.

"Life is but a stage…Gabriel." Amélie began as the uproarious clapping continued. Gabriel turned to her silent, unsure of what she meant. Her eyes met his and her lips parted, "A stage. To appease the masses, to appease their social expectations. It's how everything in this world acts."

Reyes pondered for a moment and recognized the truth behind this statement. Every action committed, every word that has been said – has all been for the sake of appeasement and upholding social expectation. The expectation of Overwatch to preserve world peace, the stage in which the world watches as the UN slowly dismantles itself piece by piece, the platform in which the world spectates in anticipation as Overwatch and other nation states attempt to battle threats such as Talon. Those words that have been spoken held much truth and wisdom – but Reyes never expected to hear them from someone like her.

As the applause dimmed to silence, the room eventually returned to it's drawn and boorish status of chatter and gossip. As the night drew to it's end, most of the invitees had returned to their homes Gabriel stood outside of the estate accompanied by Gérard and his wife at the foot their estate.

"Well Gérard, I have to admit – this might've been the most _eventful_ occasion that I've been on in recent years." Gabriel smirked.

"Mounsier Reyes…" The Frenchman began in a mellowed tone, "All events at the Larcroix estate are always open to you. Will you be heading back to Headquarters now?"

Reyes nodded, "Yeah. Just hoping Jesse hasn't torn up the Blackwatch unit while I was gone."

Gérard laughed and confirmed his notion, "Well, we hope you return safely Commander Reyes."

Amélie spoke in turn, "I appreciated your company tonight Gabriel. And perhaps the next time you decide to visit France you may accompany us on more social occasions."

Gabriel nodded, "That would be nice." And with that Gabriel began to turn around towards the car that was waiting to pick him up. As he opened the door to the car he turned his head and watched as the couple began to disappear into the doors of the estate. Yet he noticed the womanly figure turned her head around as well. Gabriel's eyes met Amélie's – confirming each other's thoughts. That even though their dialogue and time with each other was brief, they had felt more connected with each other than with anyone else.

' _I promise…Gérard. I promise.'_

* * *

Reaper snapped back to reality, placing the picture back on the shelf and stepped several paces back away from it. He exhaled a gravelling sigh as his eyes looked above to the ceiling.

' _Gérard…I'm sorry I did nothing.'_

Suddenly a noise rang out behind him. Reaper turned with his firearm in hand but he was too late, a figure leapt from the shadows and tackled his body to the ground. Reaper growled as he prepped his feet against the figure's torso and launched the shadowy figure into the air and making it land behind him. As Reaper staggered to his feet, the moonlight shining through the window beside them casted the figure into view.

With piercing yellow eyes that gleamed in the moonlight, teeth bared as she panted in exhaustion, arms raised in a fighting position – ready to combat the wraith. Reaper paused as he realised that it was really her…Amélie Larcroix. The same Amélie Larcroix that Reaper knew all those years ago.

"You!" Widowmaker said scornfully, "Come to apprehend me like the rest of these bastards?! Come to take me back to Talon and wipe out everything that I've ever known?! Ever loved?!"

"…Amélie." Reaper murmured beneath his breath with concern.

"I won't let Talon…Sombra…you, use me ever again."

"Widowmaker…wait!" Reaper exclaimed just before the woman began to strike him. Quickly, Reaper parries her attacks and makes an effort to dodge her strikes instead of applying a force of his own. The Sniper did not seek to apply the same mercy. Relentlessly, her strikes were precise – each meant to bludgeon, break and evidently: kill.

"Damn it Widowmaker! Listen to me!" Reaper roared as he took care to not harm her in anyway.

"Don't call me that!" She screamed as she sent a roundhouse kick to the wraith's ribcage, winding him and catching Reaper off guard. Quickly he returned to his defensive fighting stance, blocking a second roundhouse kick with his forearms before it reached his head.

"I'm not here to hurt you!"

"Liar!"

Widowmaker steps several paces back – disconnecting her recon visor and throwing it at Reaper. He dodges the headpiece and watches it shatter behind him from the force applied from the woman's throw. While he was distracted, Widowmaker quickly runs up and wraps her legs around Reaper's hips and used her momentum to throw the wraith off his balance and land against the ground with a thud. Reaper's entire body was shocked with pain, he raised his arms attempting to block the barrage of punches the Sniper was throwing.

"Amélie! Just stop and listen to what I have to say!" Reaper shouted before copping a steel-like strike against the side of his face. Growling with impatience, Reaper caught the second punch with his open hand and relentlessly catches the woman's second wrist with his other hand.

"Listen to me!" Reaper growled however in a much lower and softer tone. His eyes looked at her, eyes wide and eager for blood, teeth grit against each other and a thick strand of raven hair that escaped the holds of her ponytail trailing down the centre of her face. Rage filled her expression, a rage he knew too well.

"I'm here to help you! Understand? Help you!"

"Why would you help me? What do you stand to gain from it?" Amélie asked with distaste, her tone still retaining the doubt in her voice.

"I gain nothing from it! I'm _choosing_ to help you!" Reaper could feel after several moments that the force behind her clenched fist began to loosen.

"If you try anything, know that I'm more than prepared to kill you."

Reaper nodded, not doubting her abilities. Amélie begins to stand up and step several paces away from the wraith as he begins to stagger up to his feet. His mask began to feel the humidity rise from his chest and neck, unsure of what was the cause of this. Nervousness? Fatigue? Or was it simply reflection?

"A murderer like you. Helping me. Absurd." Reaper could hear the woman murmur beneath her breath as she folds her arms and continues to observe him with skeptical eyes. That's right…she still didn't know who he really was.

"Amélie…I." He paused midsentence; unsure of how to even approach this topic, better yet how he would predict the outcome of this. "Egh. I'm helping you because of a promise I made."

"Tch, from whom?" Amélie continued to ask with cynicism.

"From…Gérard."

Reaper had hoped that maybe this would bring the conversation to the next stage. It did the opposite. Amélie prepped her feet ready to lunge towards the wraith.

"Don't mock me crétin!"

"Hear me out Amélie." Reaper said quickly before the woman made any rash movement. "This promise was made a long time ago."

"A long time ago? How do you know my husband? What promise?" She paused briefly as she lowered her stance and finally holds the patience to hear the wraith's words. Reaper's throat urged him to just spit it out, but his mind restricted him from doing so.

"I just knew him."

"I'm not satisfied with that answer." Amélie said as impatience slowly crept back to her tone, "Remove your mask."

Reaper freezes as she looked at the woman in front of him. She wasn't joking, she clearly wasn't. But for the sake of understanding and perhaps a sense of hope from the wraith, he did as he was told. Two clawed fingers reached beneath his mask and gradually pulled it from his face. Widowmaker narrows her eyes and tries to cut through the shadows that obscured his face.

With a thump, he lets go of his mask and begins to walk into the moonlight – throwing his hood back and awaited her response.

Silence hung in the air. The ocean lurking outside the Chateau's stone walls crashed against it's frame which was the only ambient sound which intruded the eerie reticence.

"My God…" Amélie whispered with widened eyes. "That's…impossible. I thought you – I thought you died. I thought you died along with him."

The ocean waves crashed against the Chateau's stone exterior, accompanying the eerie silence that lingered over the island home for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2: Grief

**_"_ _It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live." – Marcus Aurelius_**

* * *

 **Talon Headquarters, Post – Overwatch Dissolution**

The air was tight with anxious figures sitting in a dimly lit room with red accents fueling the vaguely sinister atmosphere of the Talon Council. Vialli, Doomfist, Sanjay, Maximillien, and to Reaper's surprise – Moira were all sitting together in this one facility. All eyes eventually directed their attention to the gloomy character situated across them. Reaper felt their cold gazes latch onto him, like an animal in captivity, like a prisoner that was out of control, like an outcast amongst outcasts.

The silence broke with Moira extending an arm and presented the wraith infront of the Council – her long fingers pointing directly towards him, "Gentlemen, as you may have heard from previous gatherings, I said I would present to you a suitable…replacement in this Council. As you all know, my tastes are well refined – and I would not want to waste any of your precious time."

Reaper glanced briefly at the Irish scientist – awed at how she had already become accustomed to the presence of their once former enemy, and how suddenly she appeared to him several weeks after the incident in Switzerland to suggest an 'opportunity'. Reaper knew all to well what his former Blackwatch subordinates were like, hell he naturally made it his job to know everything about everyone, and it was no surprise that Moira of all people would be the one to conduct business behind his back. Maybe that was the reason he recruited her, maybe that was the one and only thing he liked about her in general.

"So…'Reaper'." Vialli began as he shrugged his elbow off the back support of his leather chair and placed both arms on the table infront of him, "Moira had ensured us that you were one to take the final seat on the Talon Council. To be honest…I don't see anything special. To me, you're just a guy in tight leather wishing to be something bigger."

The wraith growled silently, fuming faint spectral tendrils off his body as his rage gradually began to build. Moira smirked devilishly as she notices his developing wrath, knowing fully what he was capable of. She slowly extended her hand and signaled the Reaper to calm down.

"Vialli, that is quite the statement coming from a man who found his way to the council through my- _our_ accomplishments." Moira turned her head slightly towards the direction of the Reaper, confirming the acknowledged history between the two during their time as their former shadows. Vialli scoffed at the woman's remark but before he could say anything to retort, Doomfist silenced the court with a hard slam against the table with his prosthetic arm.

"Enough of this bickering." His voice emerged with authority, "The Council will resolve this trifling matter in regards to the acceptance of the killer known as the 'Reaper' into our ranks. Recent reports have shown that he is quite aligned towards Talon's interests, our informants have found sightings of this killer to be a hunter of former Overwatch agents and affiliates - in addition to receiving an endorsement from one of our own Councilors. I see no reason why the Council should not unanimously accept Moira's candidate."

Vialli stands up from his chair and furrows in distress, "How can we even trust him?! We're not just some common criminal underground! We're an organisation! This…'Reaper' is just a contract murderer, a killer. We don't even know who he is behind that wretched mask."

Maximillien and that sleazy Vishkar manager Sanjay remained silent as their watchful gaze peered on with interest in this conflict, as if both of them remained undeterred or negligent of the impact this decision would result in for the both of them. Doomfist and Moira on the otherhand, looked at Vialli with skeptical eyes – knowing that this buffoon's lust for profit and self indulgence was his only initiative within Talon's inner circle, refusing to see the bigger picture: the frame of war.

Reaper places two hands on the table and begins to slowly ascend from his seat. All eyes turned to this movement – even Vialli feels the shiver of fear crawl down his spine as spectral fumes leveled from the wraith's body.

"Vialli…" Reaper says in a distorted, scratched and graveled voice. "You were always a hard one to track down. But don't forget the one who put you in that chair."

Reaper's final sentence was delivered in a distorted and devil-like tone as his claws gracefully, yet disturbingly, pulled his mask off his face and placed it on the wooden table. Vialli's eyes widened as his puzzled expression took him several paces back, pushing aside his chair and finally letting out a concealed yelp of fear. Doomfist, Sanjay and Maximillien looked towards the wraith with an unpleasant sense of surprise – unaware that the once spearhead of Overwatch's covert operations and Commander of Blackwatch was still alive, and operating as an assassin no less. Moira herself peered on with a neutral expression, eventually her lips curled into a sly smile as her former commanding officer established his presence amongst the Council.

"Trust me or not…" Reaper continued as his form de-materialised into dark, thick smoke and travelled across the table before re-appearing directly in front of Vialli, causing the greedy corporate to take an additional step back – fear continuing to grip his core. "Don't forget, I didn't refuse to take Antonio's life. Why should I stop you from following in his footsteps? Hm? I would be happy to send him his former associate."

Vialli's petrified eyes looked to the Council, each member watching without any motive for intervention. Vialli recognizes his futile argument and acknowledges his place. Reaper returns to his seat and places his mask back over his scarred face. Silence gripped the room for several moments before Maximillien raises his hand.

"I'd say he's in." The Omnic declares with simple words. Later, Doomfist raises his arm and nods, followed by Sanjay, Moira and begrudgingly – Vialli himself. Reaper himself was astonished how easily they had accepted the fact that he was once the key figure in disrupting Talon's operations during his time in Blackwatch. But then again – a man like him had his uses.

"With the Council in agreement, Reaper will be appointed as the final seat within Talon's inner Council." Doomfist says with a hesitant tone, still skeptical of the former Blackwatch Commander. "We will reconvene on another date, but for now – this meeting is now concluded."

Not long after the Council meeting. Reaper was approached by Moira outside the conference room in regards to his first duties.

"Now Gabriel, weren't you glad that you accepted my proposal?"

"Better align with someone than with no one I suppose. Which makes me wonder how long you've been in contact with Talon since the moment I met you." The wraith replied with his head tilted towards the slightly taller woman.

Moira winced with surprise at the man's attention to her actions and smiled, "Then you'll know that the Council intends to test you. Blackwatch and general Overwatch affiliates weren't too popular with Talon as you would know. They'll be sending you to do something under surveillance, and make sure you're still not a righteous sod."

"Trust me Moira…my past stays in the past."

The Talon scientist chuckles as she leads him towards her research centre.

"Well Gabriel. I think it was best to show you one of Talon's more recent responsibilities they had placed on me."

The doors slid open and as Reaper looked forward, his eyes widened behind his mask and his throat clenched as words struggled to breach from his mouth. The door revealed a Talon soldier clad in its signature white armour with a white recon visor sitting ontop of her face. Her head turned instantly towards their direction before the doors even reached the end.

 _"_ _Amélie…"_ Reaper thought to himself.

"I trust you're familiar with the famous case of Amélie Larcroix. Missing on the night of Gérard's murder."

"Yes…" Reaper said huskily.

Moira presented the wraith with a slender arm, "Larcroix. Welcome the newest seat to the Council. You will be his surveillance operative in the field for the time being."

Amélie nodded in Reaper's direction, lips pursed and silent.

"Would you mind showing him what you can do?" Moira asked in a cynical tone. Once again, Amélie nodded with a stern expression as she prepped her rifle off her lap and made her way towards Talon's practice range with the two Council members accompanying behind her.

As they arrived at the range, the Sniper took her station and set the targets to the maximum difficulty. Moira and Reaper watched from a distance, analyzing the woman that had been turned into a killer.

"Overwatch…Blackwatch…Interpol, everyone was looking for her. Kidnapped by Talon for the second time – presumed dead. But she's here. All this time she was here." Reaper murmured to the scientist next to him. Moira glanced at the man beside her and gave him a curious frown.

"Oh? Do you have history with one of Paris' most accomplished dancers?"

"I knew her through a friend. Her husband."

"Ah, the diplomat. How ironic. He spoke out extensively against Talon and it's operations."

"He did…" Reaper replied in a mellow tone. His eyes trailed the movement of the Sniper below them. Swift alterations to her rifle were made in quick and steady actions, her recon visor came down to her eyes and she was instantly ready to fire. Holo-targets appeared at a tremendous distance and rapidly moving as if they were sentient marks. A brief moment passed as the Sniper inhaled – her lung lax and steady, her heart calm and slow. With a sharp exhale, her trigger finger acted.

Reaper watched in awe as the woman he once knew began to drop the targets one by one, almost as if she was instinctively identifying her targets and instantly locking her sight from one to the next. Moira smiled as she can tell the expression the wraith was making beneath his white façade.

"Extensive conditioning and procedural augmentation was made to her mental and bio-structural systems. A slower heart-rate was seen to give Larcroix a more effective performance on the field-"

"…Hence why she has that pale blue skin." Reaper interrupted, his gaze still fixated on the assassin now known as 'Widowmaker'.

"Precisely." Moira confirmed.

"How long…how long did she undergo this procedure?" Reaper asked as he finally turned his head to the scientist.

"Longer than I've been in Talon. Her procedures were theoretically sound and even efficient in practice – however…I was just brought in to perfect her conditioning. Perhaps, I could do the same to you. Finish what we started hm?"

"Yeah…" Reaper said with a hesitant tone, "Maybe."

Time passed and Widowmaker had completed one of the hardest courses in Talon's firearm facility. She made her way back up to the waiting Council members and awaited her next commands.

"Impressive as usual, Larcroix." Moira remarked with a satisfied smirk, no doubt praising her own work as she usually does. Some things don't change, Reaper knew that. From Blackwatch to Talon, things will continue to operate with little to no effect. A goal is to be accomplished, like any other organisation or company. Whether it be profit, domination or any other means – the world will run as it is. Unless someone or something wields enough momentum to shatter that cycle forever.

"Return to your quarters. We'll notify you once Reaper has been assigned to a task."

Widowmaker nodded and left the room without question. Reaper turned to Moira and asked her a solemn question, a question that had him pondering for years.

"How long were you affiliated with Talon Moira? How long were you in the shadows? Lurking behind my back for all this time?"

Moira simply smiled and began to make her way out of the facility.

"…I will tell you this. _Commander_. Talon has always been thought to be a 'terrorist' organisation. An organised anarchistic paramilitary sector of this world hell-bent on the destabalisation of modern society. This is simply not true. Overwatch was wrong. The UN was wrong. They simply refused to see the bigger picture. But Talon? Talon is not centralised on one government or one goal. Talon is based on an idea. That is why Overwatch fell – that is why Talon is still here."

The doors closed as Moira concluded her statement, leaving Reaper alone in this new environment, once again leaving him in a position of leadership within the upper echelon of the institute he once considered was the enemy, a member of the Council he once deemed was the foe, a spearhead of the subordinates he once killed in the name of righteous justice. But through Reaper's thoughts he pushed through all this hypocritical gesture and focused on the one thing that haunted him ever since he laid eyes on it.

 _"_ _Amélie…what have they done to you?"_

* * *

 **Present Day, Chateau Guillard**

The pale white mask of the Reaper lay still on the stone pavement, its hollow sockets watching as a dark figure loomed closer and closer to a petrified Widowmaker. Her eyes remained wide open, refusing to look away from the man she once knew. A low gruff was heard from the dark figure as he stopped just in front of the window – the moonlight shining onto his fully exposed form. Gabriel narrowed his eyes as he saw in Amélie the same expression in which Ana gave him in Egypt when she removed his mask. Shock, retort, processing…a hint of disgust. Could he blame her? He knew what he looked like – Moira tried her best to regain what remnants of his past figure resonated, and while he thought it was close enough, some scars never heal.

"Gabriel…" Amélie murmured beneath her breath. While her voice was shy, the wraith noticed hints of emotionless and cold tones hindering behind her throat, signaling that her conditioning may have left remnants of the procedure lingering in her system. Gabriel took several steps forward before stopping just in front of the woman. Amélie in turn took several steps back – still comprehending the fact that the man that she knew well before her abduction, and the man she presumed dead along with her husband, was alive. _Alive_. Standing right in front of her.

"Yeah…" Reyes murmured. "Not what you expected. Huh?"

"Toi trou du cul!" The woman shouted as she lunged forward and threw punches towards the wraith. Surprised and caught off guard, Reyes copped a strike against his face and several against his abdomen, winding him and sending him several paces back.

"You used me you bastard! All this time! Acting without my own will! And it was all under you!" She continued to frantically throw punches against the Reaper's armour, tears beginning to swell in her eyes.

While the pain was afflicted to Gabriel's body, he simply accepted it. He knew her rage, a rage he understood. He allowed her to vent that pain, that rage, that feeling of betrayal all against him. He deserved it if nothing else. Reyes soon developed a notion of unfeeling towards the woman's strikes, his stomach constantly being raided by hard fists. He lowered his head down, his eyes observing her facial expressions as she continued to attack him. She wasn't even looking him at this point, her eyes fixated themselves on the floor – tears streaming down her cheeks and riveting off her chin and onto the stone floor. With every punch she threw against the wraith, she would murmur something barely audible, something similar to a hateful hiss.

Gabriel felt sorrow as she felt the weight behind her punches. How she hoped that this was not how it was. How a man that was invited to her home would turn into the manipulative killer he was now. How the man she danced with all that time ago had changed into _something_ that was barely recognisable. How the Reyes she once trusted as the aid to her husband had been the malicious killer behind many of Overwatch's former agents. With one final punch, her clenched fist stayed at the wraith's stomach.

Reyes could feel her clench fist tremble, an action he didn't expect from the steady assassin he has come to presume. Yet realising that after countless procedures and constant experimentation, all that that pent up stress, pressure, _human_ emotion had begun to reemerge within Larcroix – he couldn't help but feel regret towards her.

Soft whimpers could be heard beneath the former assassin's breath. Tears began to gradually build within Gabriel's eyes – realising how useless he was, _is_. Her sorrow signified a broken promise, a promise he failed to keep, a promise he desecrated upon the death of his companion.

 _'_ _Promise me Gabriel, if anything happens to me – you will never allow any kind of harm or grief fall on her.'_

Those words rang inside his mind, causing him to look up towards the ceiling – tears beginning to stream down the wraith's cheeks and curse himself. Amélie slowly pulled her arm away from his stomach and began to walk the opposite direction, her arm holding her other bicep and continued to look down to the floor.

"Amélie…I-" Reyes froze midsentence as she turned around instantly with cat-like eyes. Golden globes met his gaze with anger and hate. The feeling of betrayal and manipulation burned within her core, seething within her boiling blood.

"I…I can't explain why I've decided to use Talon to achieve what I want. And really, it's more complicated than you think. But it was never my intention to use you."

"All the things I've done…" Her throat clenched with emotion as every word escaped from her mouth was accompanied by a soft snivel, "All those people I've killed. I felt nothing. But finally, after being freed from that – prison. Pain. Pain was all I could feel, Gabriel. Tell me…how long did you know that I was trapped in the clutches of Talon's experiments?"

Reyes narrowed his eyes with guilt.

"How long did you watch me perform Talon's dirty work like a lap dog!"

Gabriel grit his teeth behind closed lips, fists beginning to curl with anger. Anger towards himself.

"It was never your intention to use me? Then how long did you stand idly by, doing. NOTHING!" The woman screamed with a voice so filled with hate and passion, it caused Gabriel to act purely on instinct. Amélie saw him coming towards her, her eyes wide with surprise and being caught off-guard. Her body froze as the dark figure approached her. Her tears streamed down her face and her body tensed as his arms folded around her and tugged her close to his chest. As the distance closed between the two, she could hear the murmuring of a sincere man.

"I'm sorry." He repeated to himself and to her.

"I'm sorry."

Amélie stood in awe, new tears beginning to build in the woman's eyes. Gradually, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his body in turn. With closed eyes she placed her forehead against his chest and murmured.

"I know you are. Gabriel. _I know you are_."


	3. Chapter 3: The Missing Link

_**"Everyone says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive." –C.S. Lewis**_

* * *

Amélie slowly bent over and placed two fingers beneath her flung recon visor and lifted it up to her stomach. The red glass that was left on the visor slowly fell off piece by piece off the mantle and onto the floor, more delicate red shards splintering beneath her feet. Gabriel watched closely as he rested against the cold, stonewall. His eyes scaled the environment. It was hard to imagine a once prosperous and maintained household would ultimately crumble in a state of constant Talon occupation, the home of a once noble family trampled with the poison of soldier's footsteps and stained with the scent of munitions.

The two had come to a form of mutual understanding. However the atmosphere of distrust and unforgiving torment continued to persist around the woman's general aura. Reyes had come to realise that she needed space and time, to sort out her thoughts and process recent events. Amélie had settled herself inside her study, placing her broken visor on the table and moving the weapon case sitting besides her desk aside. Gradually, she walked over towards one of the wooden cabinets and opened it – revealing her weapon of choice. Reyes arched an eyebrow as to questioning why she would place her rifle inside a compartment such as that – however soon forgot the notion as she emptied the magazine sitting inside the main chamber and reached beneath the weapons case for a fresh one, placing it inside and locking it in place.

Slowly she turned her attention to the wraith and walked over towards him.

Reyes widened his eyes and wondered if she was going to shoot him with the damned thing. Amélie stopped before him and narrowed her eyes.

"So…what do you plan to do now?" She asked him with a low tone. Gabriel paused and wondered. He never really did think about what to make of this situation. He never expected that the conditioning process would ever deteriorate, malfunction at best. He thought it was a simple retrieve mission, Widowmaker turned frantic and out of control – with no mind of who she was or those around her. But this was different. She _does_ know who she is, she _does_ know who's around her. So what the hell was he supposed to do? Turn renegade for the sake of 'old times'? Forsake Talon for a woman he barely knows? Maybe, that's why he was here? Wasn't he?

"I said I'd help you. Thing is, I don't know where to start." Reyes replied with narrowed eyes.

Amélie gave no response as she walked over to the window and peered through it's sleek glass texture and out into the ocean horizon.

"Talon had sent numerous hoverships to my home. Each time thinking that I was mindless and merely entered a stage of zealous rage. That the roaring of their engines would be a minor concern. They were fools."

Gabriel watched her as she settled her rifle against the wall and leaned outward towards the ocean. Her figure seemed relaxed, loose, and almost eerily comfortable. Her arms gradually cradled themselves, her palms resting on the opposite elbow. Her golden eyes glistened with the shimmers of the ocean waves. Gabriel only watched, realising that the violet assassin before him wasn't Widowmaker anymore – she was a functioning, feeling human being. It was times like these that he wished things would be different, maybe things could change. The issue was…things _have_ changed.

"Perhaps they sent you. Hoping that you would be the answer to the other's failures." Amélie says softly as she turns her attention down towards the corridor, scattered with the corpses of Talon troopers. Gabriel trailed her direction and looked down the corridor, silently acknowledging her statement.

"Talon still thinks you're unstable. That you're in an uncontrollable status. No thought, just murder." Reyes said, folding his arms and adjusting his back against the stonewall. "For now, the Council would want to capture you and bring you back for detainment. Either to fix their misconduct, or find out what's wrong with you and find another candidate to take your place."

"To replace me?"

"Permanently."

Amélie nods, confirming what that meant for her and gradually diverted her eyes back towards the horizon. Gabriel continued to watch her, struggling to find the next words to say. As his mouth parted to say what was on his mind, Amélie had already beaten him to the next topic at hand.

"Two days. Two days I sought refuge here, in my home. Hoping that perhaps I would be left alone here, to die alone here for what I have done." She lifted her hands and Reyes watched as they shook.

"All the things that I've done. All those people I've killed. Do you know what the worst part was Gabriel?" A tear was seen streaming down the right side of her cheek, yet her tone and emotion remained emotionless, sealed with the hint of rage. "I remembered everything. I remember everything Talon did to me, everything they told me to do. The cynical smile of that woman…everytime she said she'd found an innovation to my system."

" _Moira…_ " Reyes murmured to himself. Amélie stopped her monologue as the distinct beeping against Reyes' earpiece emerged, a call from an untraceable contact. Gabriel looked at Amélie, she looked back with nothing but contempt in her eyes – slight tensing against her arms and legs as she knew who was attempting to establish a connection with the wraith. With two clawed fingers, Reyes tapped the earpiece.

"Reaper here."

"Did you locate the target?" Moira asked through his earpiece, slight static resonated within the eerie halls. Gabriel's eyes glanced towards Larcroix, her eyes shooting right back at him. With a steady breath, he exhaled and replied.

"Negative. It seems that Widowmaker has been forced to relocate to another location. Right now I'm scouting her residence for more information to where she might've gone."

"Return to Venice when you're done there. We need to find her, quickly." And with that, Moira abruptly ended the transmission and Reyes lowered his arm, nodding to the woman infront of him.

"You've made your decision Gabriel." Larcroix says in a low tone, her eyes sharp with both a sense of uncertainty, yet tinted with the glow of hope. "Are you willing to abide by it?"

Gabriel slowly lowered himself to pick up his ceramic mask, staring into it's hollow pits and wondered himself. Talon was hunting this woman, to make her a slave to their ideals, a weapon for their use and to render her nothing more than a mindless gun – aimed at the interests of the world around them. Reyes clenched the mask, the claws on his gauntlet gradually leaving light scratch dents along the side of it from the pressure he was applying. Would he sacrifice his position within the organisation that would bring change to this world for the sake of his basic moral compass? For a near stranger? His eyes glanced up to look her in the eyes. No. He would do it for a friend. And perhaps be redeemed for the broken promise he had sworn right infront of his face.

"I'm doing this…for the promise I swore. Let the consequences be on my head." Gabriel replied huskily as he slowly placed the white mask back over his face. Amélie nodded, her lips curling into a slight smile as the hope that had sparked within her core soon came to be realised. The hooded figure turned his attention to the interior setting of the Chateau before directing his gaze towards the window. Amélie notices his curious glances and asks him an endearing question.

"What are we going to do next? We cannot simply stay here."

Reyes nods, "That's what I was thinking…nonetheless, I don't see why we can't."

Widowmaker frowns at this statement but sees the logic behind it, if Talon wishes to find her and bring her back alive and with Gabriel redirecting their attention away from her Chateau – then she sees no reason why she couldn't simply stay here.

"Worst case scenario…" Reaper began as he stood to the opposite side of the window from Amélie and overlooking the horizon, "Talon decides to send another Talon search party to confiscate anything of value in this place. When they do arrive, the only choice we'd have is to dispose of them. When that happens, and no one checks back to base. Tch, they'd know something's up."

"That would be inconvenient." Larcroix says as she turned her gaze towards her sniper. "I only have one more magazine stored within my rifle. Suitable for one more Talon detachment who dares set foot on my home. Was going to save it earlier, for _you_ when you departed from that ship."

Gabriel didn't doubt that. From what he had seen upon entering the island fortress, she was not hesitant in firing her weapon. The awkward, quiet atmosphere began to see itself present around the two figures, their eyes both watching the cold, still water. Reyes' eyes glanced to the woman. She was quiet, composed, and graceful in her own way. His eyes widened, his vision of the sniper blurred – in it's place was the figure of a tall character dawned in a lavish dark purple dress, standing in the same position in the same posture, her raven hair neatly bundled and tied – with the haunting image of a royal orchid planted besides her ear and within the thick of her locks. The figure looked back, her rogue lips parted into a warm smile and her dark eyes lit up as he was brought within her sight. Reyes took deep breaths as the figure walked closer to him.

"Gabriel?" The woman asked in a tone he hadn't heard in a long time.

"Amélie?" He murmured huskily.

"Gabriel." The woman said in a calm composure before her expression changed drastically, an expression of distraught and worry, "Gabriel? Gabriel!" The woman yelled.

Reyes shook his head and blinked once more. Dark eyes were replaced with golden globes; creamy skin transformed into a cold blue and the swan-like dress was supplanted by a purple combat suit.

"Gabriel? Are you ok?" Amélie asked with a sincere gaze. The wraith looked her in the eyes, he hadn't seen emotion resonating from Widowmaker's face other than anger or a neutral sentiment. It made him see in her a humanity which he thought had been removed.

"Y-yeah. I was just…thinking." Reyes' tone was hindered and wavering. "I guess I was just wondering how I never got the chance to formally apologise. To _really_ apologise. About everything."

The sniper, confronted by the sudden shift in ambiance, did nothing but listen to the specter with open ears.

"When I had first laid eyes on you in Talon headquarters, I couldn't bring myself to let you know who I was. Knowing what they had done to you, with your emotion stripped, your neural systems conditioned, I admit I had no idea what to make of you – nor even give the slightest hint of caring. But I knew that within myself held the guilt which lurked within me since the night of your abduction…and consequently, the death of your husband."

"…My doing." Amélie whispered as she lowered her head, hair trickling from her tied ponytail and lying messily infront of her face. Gabriel only nodded.

"The night Gérard invited me to Paris. The night where we first met in person before all this… _crap_ happened. He told me to make him a promise, that if anything had happened to him – _you_ would be safe." Reyes paused as he saw the woman begin to raise her head, tears gleaming into her eyes and slowly trailed down her cheeks. The pain of an ironic fate. The words of her husband urging another man to ensure her safety if anything had happened to him – only for that same man to be undone by the widow's hand. Gabriel shook his head, knowing what he had said evidently struck accord with Amélie's recovery of her emotion.

"I was selfish. Selfish, crude, vengeful and in the end – an asshole. I was looking out for myself and my own goals, not once did I think about your wellbeing, only the wellbeing of our operations. Huh, if only Gérard could see me now. How pathetic I am, how he could trust a liar."

The sniper raised her arm, swiping the tears away with her arm and composed her stress as she walked over to the saddened wraith and placed a hand over the taller man's shoulder.

"You're here now. And as far as I know, you're the only one I know who cares."

Reyes nodded, "Talon won't touch you ever again. I'll make sure of it."

* * *

 **Present Day, Talon Communications Sector**

 _'…Talon won't touch you ever again. I'll make sure of it.'_

Two figures listened to the audio in a near dark room, nothing but the illumination of several purple holoscreens displaying the frequency of a communications signal playing as every word of Reaper was broadcasted. A purple hand tapped its acrylic nails consistently and consecutively before a finger dragged the audio to an earlier segment.

 _'I'm doing this…for the promise I swore. Let the consequences be on my head.'_

"Huh, who'd have thought that those two had genuine history together. I've always thought Gabe had nothing to do with the affairs of other men." The purple figure said in a contempt and childish manner.

"Play the audio again." The second figure ordered in a low tone.

"Which part?"

"All of it Sombra."

The Latina hacker turned her chair around slowly and arched an eyebrow to the tall figure in the shadows. She shrugged and dragged the entire segment to the back and allowed the entire duration of Reaper landing on the Chateau, communicating through the intercom, fighting with Widowmaker and evidently until the end of Gabriel's admission to insubordination.

Through the shadows, the tall figure walked closer to the holoscreens and narrowed her heterochromic eyes. With both arms held behind her back, and a distasteful frown was brought upon her face she murmured to Sombra sitting beside her.

"You've done well, placing a recording beacon inside Gabriel's garments Sombra. With Reaper's known history with Larcroix, the Council needed to solidify his alignment towards our interests by providing him a task that would determine his loyalty."

Sombra urched back as Moira placed both hands on her desk and leaned forward towards the screen, her dark claws breaching the surface of the table with a slight hiss escaping from the corner of her curled frown.

"Disappointing…" She said in a cool tone, poison oozing with every syllable of the word.

Sombra sat uncomfortably and asked the Councilwoman a question, "So was Widowmaker's defection activated on purpose or…?"

Moira glanced towards Sombra, pausing for a moment before straightening her posture and returning her hands behind her back, "No. Widowmaker's breach still remains a mystery, however it was a suitable coincidence to discover Reaper's true intentions." She let out a frustrated sigh as she concluded her statement, placing two fingers at the corners of her eyes. "Now we have two major issues at our hands, the mystery behind Larcroix's defection, and now two rogue operatives dwelling in Larcroix's Chateau."

Sombra stretched her arms back and rested them behind her head; with one eye closed she turned towards Moira with a contempt expression.

"What do you intend to do?" Sombra asked with a raised eyebrow. Moira said nothing for several seconds before looking down at Sombra.

"For now, nothing will be said to the Council. For now…I want them both alive."

"Well, you might have a problem trying to recover _both_ of them alive. If we're having trouble trying to get one of them – I don't think you're going to get Gabe back willingly."

Moira's cold eyes stared into Sombra's violet ones. The hacker could feel the frosty gaze send chill down her spine – as if the devil itself was trying to suck her soul out of her body. Sombra suddenly felt fear as Moira prepped a smile.

"If they refuse to co-operate, then I see no reason why they shouldn't simply be terminated."

"You're willing to just. Kill them? Even after investing so much into Widowmaker's procedure?"

"I don't see why not. Assets can be replaced, one-way or another. The same applies for Reaper, I will not hesitate to let him go."

"That's cold." Sombra says flatly. Moira began to make her way out of Sombra's quarters before pausing and turning to the Latina hacker.

"Cold? I prefer to be described as doing what is necessary. I will dispatch several squads to recover our two misguided killers."

"And if they fail? You just gonna blow up the place with a barrage?" Sombra asked with a humourous attitude.

"No. The Chateau serves wonderfully as a front to our operations in France and Europe. If we fail to recover them, _you_ will be sent to eliminate them."

"Qué?!" Sombra yells before the Councilwoman disappeared behind closed doors, leaving Sombra sitting alone in her dark room – illuminated by nothing but dimmed purple holoscreens.


	4. Chapter 4: Passion

**_"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." - Laozi_**

* * *

Something felt wrong. Something felt horribly wrong.

"There is enough food stored in the kitchens that could last for several months, a year at most." Amélie said as her eyes drew their attention towards the dining area. Reyes came out of his train of thought and nodded at the woman's statement.

"But not enough ammo to withstand an assault properly." The wraith made his remark grimly.

"A bridge we will cross when the time comes." The sniper replied in a dim yet bright calibre.

Reaper couldn't help but remain vigilant and tense. There was something about this Chateau that stressed the hell out of him. He had made sure that his tracker was switched off, in order to keep off of Talon's radar – yet that in itself could raise suspicions to his whereabouts. If Talon had sent a clean up crew to the Chateau to recover whatever's valuable in this place, then him and Amélie would be forced to eliminate them. If the cleanup crew fails to check in or report back, then Talon won't hesitate to send more Troopers to discover the issue further.

"Should you feel tired, the guest rooms are on the second floor. Simply take the stairs from the main entrance and they should be located on the left hand side. Bathrooms are on the right." The sniper says with her back facing towards him, her attention drawn to the bookshelf in her study – the same bookshelf containing the endearing photo Reaper had discovered earlier.

Reyes paused momentarily, watching Amélie with close attention. Behind his mask, his eyes to what she was looking at. The bookshelf, and piercing through the shadows the image of Gérard and Amélie hand-inhand came to view. She missed him, he knew that much, but the torment she felt within herself for being the cause of his death – that, that he did not understand. Nonetheless, in his thought to be dead heart, he felt sorrow, pity and sympathy.

"You trust me enough to reside here?" Reyes said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Amélie looked back at the wraith with long narrowed eyes, "I told you earlier, as far as I am aware – you would probably be the only one who cares about me anymore."

Gabriel went silent and watched as she walked towards the bookshelf with heavy steps. As she stood infront of the oak stature, she reached into one of it's beams and pulled out the frame containing the endearing picture. Reyes thought it best to simply leave her to her thoughts and direct his attention elsewhere. As he turned his head to the window his eyes caught the movement of a small silhouette scuttling across the glass pane. He watched carefully, before finally spotting a dark spider clinging to the corner edge of the window – spinning it's web with delicate strokes and warily structuring it's new habitat. The moonlight shone through the window, reflecting the web's silky texture as well as the glimmer of the surface of the black widow spider, shone for deadly purpose.

Reyes couldn't help but admire the creature's visage and actions. It was as if he was content on his own goals and frustrated with rage for so long, that he never decided to take the time to simply stop, reflect and take into account the minor things in life. Life.

…Life.

 ** _What did a word like that mean to a man like him anymore?_**

The sudden sound of an object being slammed on something woke Gabriel from his concentration. He turned to Amélie, seeing that she had placed the picture back on the bookshelf and looked straight ahead, her rifle strapped over her shoulder and her expression linear at best.

No tears. No frowns. Only the stern expression that Reaper had come to get used to from the assassin he worked beside with. Slowly he made his way towards the sniper, stopping just beside her. Gradually he raised his arm and placed a hand over her shoulder, letting out a sincere sigh.

"I miss him too." Reyes said in a mellow tone. Amélie raised her head attentively, folding her arms and peering over her shoulder.

"It's not on you." Reyes said calmingly, " _Nothing_ is on you. Don't forget that."

The woman shrugged his hand off her shoulder and clicked her heavy boots forward. Reyes sighed in contempt frustration.

"You had no control over yourself Amélie! They implemented something in your head – forcing you to do the things you did, forcing you to do the very thing you loathe yourself for doing."

Amélie paused and listened, Reyes himself stopped for a moment, hoping that she would listen to him – that her guilty conscience confirmed that the burden should not trouble her soul.

"Gérard…" She whispered softly.

"Gérard." Gabriel repeated. "Gérard would never want this for you – the way you are now. Sulking. Guilty. Angry. Sorrowful. He only wanted what was best for you."

Amélie turned with narrowed eyes, "And what do you know about him?" She hissed.

Reyes in turn hissed back, "I knew him like a brother."

"Then how do you expect me to atone for my sins Gabriel?" Amélie questioned him with an eerily neutral emotion, "How do you expect me to simply accept the memory of my husbands death – by my hand?"

Reaper shook his head and walked towards the Sniper with heavy steps. Gradually, Amélie's head rose to look up at the wraith – she could hear him breathing deeply beneath the scratched mask, unsure whether it was frustration, defeat or simply anger. Her eyes traced the surface of the skull-like mask, a variety of dents and scratches embedded within it's surface.

"Some actions aren't worth forgiving. Not by others…not by whatever God is out there. Those actions can only be accountable to the people who do them." Reyes proclaimed weakly – almost as if he was talking to himself…or about himself.

Widowmaker pondered, staring into the dark hollow pits of Gabriel's mask, knowing that beneath those deep voids held the warm hazel eyes of a sincere man. A man she would never expect to be the mercenary killer she had come to work along side with all this time. Amélie nodded begrudgingly, turning her heel and stalked towards the dining area.

"You hungry?" Amélie asked him suddenly, changing the topic completely. Gabriel waves her off and declines.

"No." He looks around the castle, wondering if a foundation like this could ever support a modern cooking system – or even electricity alone.

"What kind of food do you have around here anyway?" Reyes asks as he turned his head towards the woman. She stood infront of a cabinet displaying a wide variety of different wines and spirits, her eyes tracing through the shelves with great interest.

"Mostly bread, a few cheeses – perhaps some veal or mutton lingering around." Widowmaker replies without even batting an eye to the wraith.

"How stereotypically French." Gabriel remarked.

"There's not much else from the city of Annecy. However the cheese…best in all of France."

"I hate mutton. You sure you don't have beef lying around here? Some Wagyu?"

"Americans…" Amélie said with a smile. Reaper chuckled quietly before going silent. He never really did see her smile, not since Talon kidnapped her and turned her into this ruthless killing machine. There was a sense of beauty – to finally see the human inside that body after all this time.

"Well…since you're not hungry. Something to drink perhaps?" Amélie asks as she opens the cabinet. Gabriel arches an eyebrow behind the mask.

"Now you're speaking my language."

"Will red wine meet your taste?"

Reyes scoffed, "Come on…you can't be serious."

"Huh, unsophisticated." Amélie darts a judgmental glance towards him. Her eyes return to the cabinet and her arm pushes aside the variety of expensive liquor and vintage wines before finally spotting at the very back of the oak furniture, a golden bottle of Scotch Whiskey tied in a bright red ribbon. She grabs the neck of the bottle and pulls it out into view.

"Will this trifle serve?" The woman asked in a humorous attitude.

Reaper narrows his eyes, gleaming as he acknowledges the brand, "Hmph. Perfect."

Amélie places the bottle down on the dining table and returns to the cabinet – producing a bottle of red wine and situating it beside the golden decanter. As Gabriel made his way down to the dining area, Amélie had already taken a wine and shot glass from the nearby drawer and placed it on the table – placing aside the bowl and glass she had partaken from earlier.

Reyes makes his way to the opposite side of where Amélie was standing, throwing his hood back and placing his fingers over his mask. Just then, he hesitated to pull it again. Gradually his fingers lower, Amélie noticing this sudden pause – knows what was going through his mind.

"I don't mind the scars Gabriel." She says as she begins to open both the bottles of whiskey and wine, pouring their contents into their respective glasses.

"In fact – you don't look far from when I had first seen you."

"Huh, reassuring." Gabriel murmured quietly with a slight chuckle before resorting back to his choice.

"I just…I don't think it'd be pleasant."

The woman arched an eyebrow and pulled a seat for herself, situating herself comfortably and raising her wine glass towards him.

"In this world…what is such a thing as 'pleasant'?"

Reaper paused for several seconds before smiling beneath his mask, "Nothing. An illusion made for those who have little to live for."

Sharp talons made their way around his mask and gently pulled it away from Gabriel's face, placing it down on the table and another arm pulling out a seat for himself. Steadily, Gabriel reached for the shot glass brimmed with whiskey.

His hazel eyes looked forward, her golden eyes staring back at him. No disgust, no repulsion, no hatred. There was a different look in her eyes, free of resentment, free of all that pent up detestation – they were hopeful, happy.

"I don't see why you even wear the mask." She says softly, "Besides conducting your vendetta in the most cliché method available. There isn't too much of a change in you Gabriel. The years must've been kind."

Reyes shook his head, "Overwatch was destroyed. Me along with it. The world doesn't need to know that I'm still out there, actively working with the organisation I fought against – as if my name couldn't be more tarnished."

Amélie nodded as she placed her wine glass down and folded her arms, lapping one leg over the other and leaning back on her chair, "And what made you join Talon in the first place? Hm?"

Gabriel clenched his glass tightly with that question, "Might need a drink for this."

"Answer the question when you're sober first." The woman demanded with a stern tone.

Reyes was taken back with the sudden tone, however he understood – she was still skeptical about him, maybe not now, but his goals were still unclear. He paused momentarily, the liquor stiff in his hand – begging to be consumed. He waited, before finally sighing and spoke in a grim tone.

"Overwatch was killing itself internally. I'm not sure how much of this you know, but Jack – the Strike Commander – and I were not on even ground."

"That much I know." Amélie affirmed as she twirled the glass around, the dark red contents swirling in a fluent motion, "But after the feud you and Morrison conducted which ultimately brought about the destruction of the world's last beacon of stability, why did you decide to join the terrorists that you and my departed husband dedicated yourselves to fighting?"

"There was no where else I could go." Gabriel murmured gruffly, "But it's not just because of loneliness. No. It's because Talon may have been right, they may have always been right…"

"About?" Amélie asked with a sip from the cup.

"About everything. This world…it's nation states, the people we as human beings revere as so called 'leaders' of the free world. A lie. Somewhere…no matter the context – corruption breeds within its system."

"And you truly believe that?"

"Believe it? Amélie…I know it. Gérard knew it. The fact that Overwatch tore itself apart is the very cause of Talon's uprise…"

"Delivered by your hand…" The sniper interrupted.

Reyes went quiet and turned his head, "Yeah…by my hand."

He lifted his arm and downed the scotch whiskey with one swift action. "I was convinced that Talon would be the flame to ignite the fire to change."

"Change?"

"Huh, I wouldn't stretch it to the point of changing the world towards a new world order. That shit just doesn't work. But what Talon does – Talon does it to make the world realise: they are puppets, to themselves, or can be made puppets by others. This can be applied to our so called world leaders."

"So you joined Talon in the name of progression for the human race." Amélie asked sipping more of the dark red contents.

"That was Doomfist's vision. Evolution through conflict – that was his policy." Reyes replied grimly.

"And you joined Talon with the same vision?"

"No. True evolution wouldn't happen for the human race in the next million years. All that talk about change, realisation and all that crap – some of it might convince me to give a damn about what Talon's doing. But I'll be honest, Amélie…I just wanted to hunt down the scumbags that brought about the end."

"The end?"

"…Of Overwatch."

"This includes former Overwatch agents themselves?" Amélie asked curiously, however slowly began to piece the events together.

Reyes poured another glass of golden liquor and downed it with a gulp before responding, "Only the scumbags involved with Overwatch's corruption."

The sniper narrowed her eyes and gave him a sharp glare, "Including your enemies…"

Reyes paused. She was clever, and more cunning than he had anticipated her to be. He briefly observed how she had positioned herself. She was relaxed, however her posture was still keen and uptight. He noticed that her eyes were fixated on him and the three long scars over the left hand side of his cheek and the cut just above his upper lip.

"Well…there's no point digging into it now." Amélie concludes with a soft sigh, pushing aside her glass of wine and instead reaching out for the bottle of whiskey.

Reyes felt his throat dry up as she picked up the golden bottle, unscrewing the top off and simply downing it's contents straight down the hatch. His hazel eyes looked down the near empty glass in his hand, his lips curling with slight competition and drinking what was left inside his shot cup before placing it aside.

"Damn. Didn't take you as the type of woman that'd just guzzle alcohol straight up." Reyes said with deep surprise as she placed the bottle down, letting out a satisfied sigh – nearly a quarter of the bottle gone in a manner of seconds.

"Ever since Talon abducted me, performed their surgeries – their brainwashing, their procedures, their guinea pig experiments…" She replied with a deadly tone, "I feel nothing. This didn't just apply to my emotion. I _feel_ nothing."

" _Barely alive huh?_ " Reyes thought to himself as he took the neck of the bottle and began to do the same, the golden liquor pouring down his throat. He felt the same way. Ever since Moira configured his physical condition – he couldn't feel anything. The burning desire of lust, the headaches of being drunk, the scorching cold of the Russian winter, the heat of the desert…all replaced with nothing but hatred and a need for vengeance.

The taste of liquor burned his taste buds, and for some reason, his eyes burned against her skin. His breathing turned heavy, why was he in heat? Now? Why? He knew exactly why. It was because of _her_. Ever since the day he met her. _Everything was because of her_.

"The scars." Amélie murmured.

Gabriel turned his gaze up, "What?"

"You may wear that mask for your identity. But it's really for those scars." She made sure to say her words clearly, though stripped of emotion – they held meaning.

Gabriel placed two fingers against his cheek, where the three prominent marks make their presence known. By his standards, these scars healed fine – but contrasted with his dark skin and complexion, they stood out as obvious battle wounds.

"A reminder of a fight that no one won." He whispered, his fingers slowly dragging up and down the impaired flesh. She saw in his eyes that they were shallow – trying to forget this 'fight'. Soon she realised it was the fight that had brought about everything, the fight that tore down Overwatch's Swiss HQ – and evidently the organisation itself.

Reyes could feel the back of his throat linger with the essence of burning whiskey and decides to once more grab the neck of the bottle, placing it to his lips and letting the liquid pour down his throat. The fact that glasses were on the table were in complete disregard at this point. As he settled the bottle down, it was immediately lingered within the woman's hand – grasping the top and taking a quick swiv from it.

"Mon Dieu…" Amélie says with a drowsy tone, placing the bottle down with a loud _clunk_. "I haven't been this hazy in years."

Gabriel paused and smirked as he turned the bottle to the back, showing her that the contents within it held nearly 45% alcohol. She groaned beneath her breath as she placed her arms on the desk, and placed her head against them, her long, tied hair accompanying her shoulder.

"Drinking this rubbish really does fuck you up…huh Gabriel?" She muffled with her head still down on the table.

Reyes folds his arms and leans back on his chair, humming as a confirmation. "It looked like you needed it anyway." He answers bluntly with a stupid grin on his face.

Larcroix peers up from her arm, her golden eyes just coming into view as they narrow at his expression. "Wipe that smug look off your face imbécile." She shifts slightly in her seat, a sudden rush of blood running up to her head and cheeks. Her face beginning to resonate a bright purple – a colour added to her complexion in which she didn't even know was possible since her abduction.

"Don't tell me that you're drunk already." Reyes says, still retaining that dumb grin.

"I simply don't drink this…," She paused, struggling to find the words _and_ the energy to string a sentence together, "…this. Filth!"

Gabriel looks at the bottle, only a quarter of the bottle is left now – and he knows that half of it is gone because of her. He was surprised that she didn't throw up yet. "You seem to enjoy it."

"I don't." She murmured, lifting her head off the table and wiping her mouth with her forearm. "But you were right. It's something I need at the moment."

"That makes two of us." Gabriel replied, his hand creeping up towards the bottle and his dry mouth begging for the dry liquid.

"Gérard always said...that if anything happened to him – _you_ would be there for me." Amélie began, sitting up straight, one leg crossed over the other, looking to the side in reflection.

His eyes direct their attention from the bottle and look her way. He paused, taking a deep breath before replying, "Mm, he requested that I take up that role a while back." He chuckled awkwardly. In shame almost.

"Look how reliable I turned out to be."

Amélie continued to look in her direction before closing her eyes and lowering her head, "The topics we talk about…" She began in a mellow tone, eyes still closed and tone still hazy from the excessive consumption of alcohol, "…I like to think that they bring out what we desperately try to hide, a chance to know each other better than we think we do."

Gabriel remained silent, unsure of what to say at this point. Her eyes opened, cat-like pupils meeting his gaze, prompting him to say something on his mind. _Anything_.

"A chance to start again…" He finally whispered, silent words that even Amélie could hear and in her heart, understand. Amélie could feel that peculiar emotion lurking within her again. It was a feeling she had not endured since her first meeting with Gabriel, that common connection – that taboo thought of knowing the other person without even saying anything to them, but at the same time…he was shrouded in mystery.

She tucked a section of her wavy hair away from her face and behind her ear, "There's still the issue of figuring out what to do next." She murmured.

Reyes nodded, "I think we need to come up with a backup plan. In case Talon does find you. _Us_." He pauses, his eyes draw their attention to the bottle of whiskey next to him. His mind ponders, _Talon is coming. I don't know how or why. But I know they're coming._ His eyes settle on the bottle for a few more seconds before finally concluding, _Fuck it_.

"But as you say…Amélie. A bridge we'll cross later." His hand grabs the bottle and places his lips against the neck, chugging the damned thing until it was near empty. He landed it with a _clunk_ , wiping his chin and letting out a satisfied and exasperated sigh. His throat burned, his chest burned, this liquor tasted like flaming menthol. His eyes narrowed as the alcohol worked his way into his system, it was hard to get him drunk – even harder thanks to the procedures Moira provided him to give him these monstrous abilities of his, it affected his metabolism to the point where he didn't even bother to smoke, drink or touch any prescription drug provided to him. But for some reason, that heat crept up inside his collar, making him grit his teeth in frustration.

"Gabriel." A voice murmured.

He looked forward. Amélie sat there, leaning forward – her elbow placed on the table and her chin resting against the palm of her hand, golden eyes narrowed with a wide, sweet smile spread against her lips which shone in a glossy texture as it contrasted the pale moonlight. Gabriel held his breath. The look she gave him, those long narrow eyes giving the impression that she could break a man in two – it was beautiful in a way, like a deadly vixen.

 _"_ _She's beautiful…"_ Reyes thought to himself, _"That look in her eyes. Hmph. She isn't Widowmaker anymore. Gérard…she's back. I don't know how or why. But she's back."_

"Don't tell me _you're_ the one who's drunk now." She said, a sense of mockery tingling at the back of her soft voice. Gabe wouldn't admit it, but he could listen to her talk for hours. Her accent illustrated that foreign atmosphere which was comforting and smooth – French was the language of love after all. But what really illustrated her tongue was the mellow, deep tone of her chords. It wasn't as rough or scratched like his voice was, but her's remained unscathed. Every word coming from those glossy lips perpetuated him into a state of calm reminiscence. It sparked a sense of attraction in a sense. An unwanted attraction.

Wait, what the fuck was he thinking? His eyes turned away from her lips, he snarled silently as he placed an arm on the table and ran his fingers through his curly hair. Amélie arched an eyebrow.

"Are you alright?" She asked with that smooth tone.

 _"_ _It's the alcohol Reyes. These thoughts in your head, it's the damned liquor talkin'…Shit."_

"I'm fine." He mumbled before looking back up to her gleaming, curious eyes. That didn't help at all. _Stop looking at me damn it._ He mouthed those words with closed lips. _The heat. It's coming back. This isn't the whiskey that's causing this._

Abruptly, Gabriel stands up and pushes his chair back. "Sorry. I'll be back. Where did you say the bathrooms where again?" His speech was awkward and near inconclusive.

Surprised and wide eyed, Amélie shrugged and motioned with her left arm.

"Follow the stairs and to the right. Should be the second door."

"Thanks." He departed, leaving his mask on the table and following the woman's directions. Quickly he ascended the stairs and out of the sniper's view, proceeding down a long corridor patented with a red carpet along with several renaissance paintings adding to the traditional atmosphere the Chateau provided. Yet considering Gabe is the local boy raised in downtown Los Angeles, the wraith gave little attention to these details and instead stormed towards the second wooden door.

He opened the door, the bathroom smaller than he had imagined. The floor was tiled, a shower space (fit only for one person) in the far left corner with a latrine across the opposite side to his close left. On the right was the sink, a tap area with a large mirror surrounded by a golden frame hanging above it. Everything was kept in pristine condition. It made Gabe think that it must've been pretty lonely. Living here. All by herself.

He loosened the collar of his vest, tugging the armour slightly down and loosening his jacket. He could feel the sweat building beneath his garments. He rushed over to the sink, removing his gauntlets quickly – realising how clammy and sweaty his hands were – throwing them to the side of the sink and quickly turned on the cold water. He cupped its cool contents into his rough hands and splashed it across his face, proceeding to let out a deep sigh as it cooled him down. After several moments he turned the tap off and placed both of his hands on each side of the sink, leaning forward and breathing heavily. His eyes looked down as the swirling noise of the water was drained into the sink, his breathing steadied to it's nominal pace. The _heat_ that consumed him seemed to have receded from his body, but what bothered Reyes was where that heat came from. He lifted his head to find himself staring at a dead man. A figure with a dark complexion, rugged with a trimmed beard, dark curly locks sitting on his head and heavy hazel eyes stared right at him. With scars. Those unhealable scars.

"Gabriel Reyes." He murmured to himself. "What a mess you became."

Drops of water still found itself trapped within his beard, its visible presence was known as Reyes used his sleeve to wipe it away. He sighed as he began to realise the cause of this scorching effect. He wanted to disregard it and simply pin it on the effects of his wraith procedure. But no, that was an unlikely case. It was _her_. It had to be _her_.

"Amélie…" He whispered softly. A soft murmur of the woman's name that touched his mind, heart and soul long ago – even without directly intending for it to be so. Gabriel shook his head, clenching his fists and began to walk back and forth slowly in a rhythmic pattern infront of the sink. He wandered and cursed himself for these thoughts.

"I don't deserve her…" He said to himself, continuously walking forward and back, "I abandoned everything I stood for, fought for – what kind of bastard does that?"

With grit teeth and flaring nostrils, Reyes stopped infront of the mirror and looked at it sideways. His fists were clenched, shadowy tendrils were fuming from his body – an obvious indication that rage consumed him, a rage that he welcomed in order to fuel his vengeance. But at this particular time, he could only think about _her_. For the first time, that rage wasn't directed towards anyone – not to Overwatch, not at Morrison, not to the media that tore him apart, not to the United Nations that stripped him of everything. That rage was meant and harnessed for no-one but himself.

"You're getting old Reyes." He said through his clenched teeth, "You shouldn't be thinking about shit like this anymore."

He paused, walking towards the sink and once more staring at his reflection.

"I mean, what the fuck was that? You started stammering at the end when you were talking to her, just to ask for where the bathroom was. Fuckin' idiot. Acting like a school boy."

An abrupt finish to the man he was glaring at. That man glared right back at him, a returning expression of matched anger. Gabe was never a smoker, always was a drinker – must've been the Latino genes that resided within him, but if he had the opportunity he might as well suck one in right now in this current situation.

Silently, he raises his hands to his face and curses harshly before finally deciding it was time to go back. He washed his hands (splashing more of it against his face) before drying himself with a convenient station of hand towels situated in the cupboard beside him.

 _It smelt of lavender. Her scent. It really must be lonely living here._

Her smell didn't help him at all as he quickly felt that heat returning to him. He quickly placed them back before reaching for his gloves and deciding not to put them on. Instead he walked out of the bathroom with both his gloves held in one hand as he returned to the dining area. As he approached the place where he last saw Amélie, he realised that she was gone. Absent from the table where the wine and whiskey bottles still lay. His mask also where he had left it. As he descended the stairs he was about to call her name yet was silenced as his ears picked up the distant tone of music.

Standing quietly, he threw his gloves on the dining table and slowly began to follow the sound of music quietly – gradually leading him away from the dining area and through the corridors, the corpses of Talon soldiers lying dormant against the floor. The soft notes of the violin met his ears as he turned the corner. The violins grew closer and closer as he proceeded down this hallway before finally reaching to the point where the music originated from the room to his right.

Slowly he peeked from the corner and his eyes were welcomed by a massive domed space – an area he didn't realise was apart of the Chateau's foundation. The music soon became orchestrated, percussion instruments, bass and all sorts of categories Reyes was unfamiliar with – was playing from a holotape in the corner of the room and began to illustrate ' _A Midsummer Night's Dream-Scherzo Op.61 No.1_ ', though to Gabriel – this sounded like every other classical piece there was. As Gabriel moved out of the wall, which covered his view – he stood in the doorway to find Amélie standing in the centre of this large domed room. Her boots kicked off and found against the left wall. Barefoot and loose, she took a dancing position, a spotlight shone ontop of her. Gabe's eyes looked up to realise that there was not a source of artificial light, but instead the glass domed ceiling allowed the natural light of the moon to illuminate the center of this miraculous ballroom.

The music played, and Amélie followed it's direction. Gabriel watched, her eyes were closed – her movement was fluid and a smile was planted against her face. Seeing her smile, it was a rare occurrence. But when she did, when it was from something she enjoyed. That didn't put Reyes into heat. No.

Instead. It only put a smile to his face as well. Knowing that someone he cared for was happy for the first time.


	5. Chapter 5: Sway with me

_**"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." – Friedrich Nietzsche**_

* * *

He stood at the entryway of the door, leaning his shoulder against it with folded arms, watching her attentively with a soft smile peeking from his lips. She traversed elegantly through the ballroom; the soft tapping of her bare feet met with the cold stone floor rang eloquently around the room – the music providing the same effect. Her steps were gradual, the typical stance and posture of a seasoned ballerina oozed from her actions. Yet from time to time, her feet would miss the tempo to the music, her arms feeling heavy and often guided her off balance.

Her face would urch as her brows would furrow, hissing slightly as these mistakes were made. It wasn't her fault. Gabe knew that. With everything that had happened to her, he couldn't blame her that she hadn't practiced her deep passion in nearly a decade. Despite these mishaps, it was easy for her to pick herself back up to the rhythm. Gentle strides and tiny hops sent her body forward and across the ballroom with a lunge from the very edge of her toes.

Reyes just stood there. Watching with drawn eyes as she paraded through the dance floor like a graceful angel, twirling and holding complex positions such as having one leg raised so high behind her – torso leaning forward, head tilted high and arms maintaining the necessary balance to keep her upright. _Beautiful as usual_ , he thought to himself. A smile sparking beneath his rough stubble.

Gradually, his eyes dimmed and his smile disappeared. Gabe looks around the ballroom, arms still crossed and shoulder leaning against the doorway. Everything around him had seemed too… _good_ , everything about Amélie had seemed too _…perfect_. He simply couldn't comprehend the fact that he had or has a childish crush on her. This was Gérard's wife for God's sake. To Reyes it didn't seem right, nor was it the proper train of thought for him to be acting like this. Yet this heat. That scorching feeling of need and want begging him to simply just take her – take her for himself. The wraith closes his eyes and tips his chin down and lets out a deliberate exhale.

His ears noticed the absence of music, causing Reyes to tilt his head up and open his eyes. He realised that the song had ended, and Amélie had concluded her performance. She stood at the centre of the room, eyes still closed and heavy pants escaping from her mouth. The gradual rise and fall of her breasts indicating her slight exhaustion.

A moment later, her eyes open. Steadily her head turns to where the wraith was standing, taking a few seconds to hone her breathing before giving him a smile. Just then, the room was introduced to a new atmosphere of music – gone was the traditional sense of classical orchestra, replacing it was a song that Reyes hadn't heard in a long time, a song that he didn't think was even relevant in this decade.

The introduction of a more modernised version of _Dean Martin's Sway_ soon echoed throughout the ballroom. Slowly, Amélie walks over towards the idle wraith – striding directly infront of him and asks, "Gabriel…would you like to dance with me?"

Gabe nearly chokes with her question, "I- No. I couldn't."

Amélie shakes her head and chuckles, "Gabriel, I know how you dance. And believe me, it isn't bad. Come on."

The woman reaches into his folded arms and clasps one of his hands with her's. Wide-eyed and reluctant, Gabe was dragged to the dance floor. Her hands were soft, softer than he had last remembered. It was a dis-service really, to stain those hands with flesh as rough and callused as his were – but the fact that he had to dance again was unacceptable to him. Yet at this moment, he simply thought to himself – _Fuck it, for her – I'd do just about anything._

"Hold up Amélie." Reyes gruffed as he let go of her hands and shrugged off his trenchcoat, throwing the weighty piece to the side of the room – landing heavily with a _thump_ as the shotguns and pellets within still resided. Next, dismantling the heavy vest which anchored his mobility down. This metal piece, containing several shotgun rounds at the front, fell on the ground with a heavy _clank_. Gabriel actually let out a satisfied groan as all that armour was freed from his body. Gabe stood taller now that all that weight was gone, his black combat shirt protruding the defined muscles beneath the fabric.

Amélie stood briefly to admire his body. Expression idle and eyes observing every twitch of his muscles as he tried to throw off the shoulder pads still reclining over his chest. As the last piece of his upper body attire was thrown off, Reyes sighed as he closed his eyes and grudgingly assumed an awkward dance position. Left arm raised high and his right ready to envelop her waist. _Some things don't change._ She knew that his past experience in the military had kept him in shape, but she didn't realise how well he had maintained himself over the years.

A gentle smirk rose from the women's violet lips. Smoothly, she strode into the clasp of the man's frame. Her hand grabbing his and gliding it towards her waist. The other reaching for his raised arm and lowering it slightly, his fingers finding their way into the nooks of her hand and clasping into them – his eyes opened, and he was introduced face-face with gleaming yellow eyes looking up at him – still heavy from the whiskey they had just raided. He was nearly a whole head taller than her when she didn't wear her combat boots; it was cute in a way.

His body stiffened, not knowing what to do. His chest heaving as the woman's aroma found it's way up to Reyes' nostrils. But the heat…that fucking heat came without warning. Gabriel grit his teeth, his hands tightening their grasp slightly as he begun to panic – his head starting to spin due to the weight of the situation he was in.

Then…a soft hand returned it's touch against Gabriel's waist arm, his vision soon returning to the beautiful sight of Amélie Larcroix's face looking up at him with a drawn smile. Slowly, she tips her toes and gains a few centimetres in height, positioning her mouth closer to his right ear and whispered.

"Relax Gabriel. Just follow the music – and let yourself _go_."

Reyes simply closed his eyes and hummed in confirmation. Her voice. That soothing voice against his ear made him melt to her will. His posture calmed, his grip was relaxed and his hips were ready to move as the music quickly picked up to the strong, slow paced lyrics of _Sway_.

 ** _"_** ** _When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway…"_**

Steadily, Gabriel leads her into his truncated version of the Tango. A style of dance, which constantly found it's way between the two former Talon operatives. Despite his heavy steps and lack of dancing experience – Reyes was a quick learner, and he never was one to forget things that were taught to him. His eyes remained vigilant over the woman's shoulder, his hips moved alongside his steps, and the overall fluidity in his movements held grace and balance.

She noticed this vast change instantly when he took his first step. Compared to that night at Gérard's estate, he knew how to properly lead. It was a slow dance, no need to rush as the tempo of the music was steady in pace. He moved her across the dance floor, their bodies tight and locked within each other's grasp – each of them refusing to let go. It was the spur of the moment thing. Gabriel felt numb with the heat, his nostrils flaring as everytime they promenaded; her long ponytail would whip past his face, her fragrance goading him towards her. Numb – yet full of adrenaline. Hot – yet cool in emotion.

As the two continued their tango (surprised that Gabriel didn't step on her feet yet), the music picked up in speed which altered their pace. The vocals urged Gabriel to spur forward, his feet finding the fluidity to slide instead of step. Amélie laughed gleefully with closed eyes as Gabriel sent her twirling out to the side, the trombones of the song triumphantly making the room burst into life as Gabe reclined the woman twirling back into position. Her laugh echoed in his ears. Happiness made him happy. Smiling briefly for a second, Gabe lead her towards the center of the room – where they danced, tangoed, spun and laughed under the illustrious spotlight.

"Magnifique Gabriel!" Amélie shouted to be heard over the loud lyrics of the song. This was followed by a soft laugh as she closed her eyes as she simply let herself _go_ , into the direction of Gabriel completely. The song was nearing its climax, the vocals preparing to make a triumphant chorus and essentially accelerate the pace in which they danced.

 ** _"_** ** _Other dancers may be on the floor, dear but my eyes will see only you…"_**

Those words rang true within both of them. The world around them blurred to the point where only the partner infront of them was in clear vision. Swiftly, Reyes leads her down the large ballroom and traverses his frame to signal his partner to turn into a slow swivel. Their faces brush past each other as Reyes directed the arm wrapped around her waist across him, this close contact causing him to groan silently – her hot breath swung past his lips as they promenaded across the scene.

Soon, the two became a heated mess. The dance floor was filled with the tapping of quick paced steps, closed promenades and enlightened giggles escaping from the woman's mouth, adding to the bright atmosphere around them.

The music finally reached it's conclusion, making Reyes extend the woman out one last time and making her twirl back towards him, her feet gliding ever so smoothly against the flat stone floor. She twirled gracefully, a smile spread so far across her face, and strands of hair floating loosely infront of it. Steadily, the music descends into silence and with it, her frame finds itself spun back into the waiting arms of her partner, catching her waist with one firm arm and the other hand gently raised so that her momentum was softened quickly and elegantly.

There they stood. Amélie dipping slightly against the man's arm, her face looking brightly up at him as his lowered head stared right back at her. Both of them were breathing heavily, the sweat beginning to build against each other's hands. His combat shirt stuck to him like a wet towel and it felt irritating as hell. With a hard swallow, Amélie hooked a wet strand of hair behind her ear and gave Reyes a narrowed, wanting look.

"It's been too long…since I've danced like that." Amélie murmured as her eyes still looked up to him.

Gabe gulped down his saliva and allowed it to sooth his dry throat. "That was certainly something."

Their faces were close. They could practically feel each other's warm breath as they let out small exhales to exert their fatigue. His hazel eyes reflected from her golden ones, inducing him to a trance like state. They stood like this for mere moments, but to them – it felt like ages. Her eyes narrow down and her glossy lips turn into a drawn smile.

"You must've been practicing after all this time Gabriel. Hopefully with someone who wasn't prettier than me."

Gabe widens his eyes, where was she going with this? He gradually allows her to straighten herself, yet his arm was still interlocked around her waist, which pushed her against his chest and allowed her to get up closer to him.

"No…" He stammered, "I just don't forget things that I've gone through. Call it muscle memory I guess."

"And when was the last time you've danced Gabriel?" Her accent illustrating his name with such a foreign tone, it drove him mad for her.

"The last time I was with you…Amélie. All that time ago."

Her hand slowly reaches for the man's cheek and slides down against his rough beard – goading him to lean forward with their eyes practically meeting each other. He stared at her. Full lips almost making a puckering expression towards him, a pink tint coming across her cheeks, which contrasted against her lilac skin made them into a brighter purple. He wanted to taste her, take her right here and now. Wait. No. What the fuck was he thinking? This isn't right. He's meant to be looking after her, not going for her.

"It's lonely here…Gabriel." She said with lowered eyes, "Forgive me if I'm saying this with a sudden change in attitude towards you. But, it's finally good to have someone you could actually talk to again. Perhaps I was a bit skeptical towards you when you first arrived here. But…I don't know."

 _What is it Larcroix?_ Reyes thought to himself as he stood there, listening.

"With such little time we've known each other for…I feel as if I've known you the most. And God forgive…perhaps more than Gérard."

She lifts her head higher with this statement. Their lips were close. Too close. Dangerously close. Her eyes sparkled before closing subtly as her face inched closer and closer towards his.

 _Bad. Very bad!_

Reyes was so tempted to lean forward and capture her lips but shook his head and returned to his reality, tilting his head slightly back and loosening the grip of his hands.

"Amélie I-"

He paused as her body began to collapse towards him. With wide eyes, he leaned forward and caught her before she landed on the ground. With one hand behind her head and the other behind her back, he realised that her chest was heaving elegantly up and down. Her eyes were shut and the soft sounds of snoring were heard. Gabriel's worries soon disappeared and sighed in relief, she was only asleep. Whether it be from exhaustion or from the bottle of liquor they had just consumed, Gabe paid no heed to these reasons and simply lifted her up, one hand behind her head and the other underneath her legs.

 _Guess I'll have to tuck her into bed…can't just leave her here._

The holotape in the corner of the room soon re-ignited and began to orchestrate the soft melodies of _La Festin_ , calming the room with it's elegant melody.

"Hmph." Reyes huffed, "Guess she'll record and play anything that's French." He began to walk out of the room with the woman still lying in his arms.

"Now…where did she say the bedrooms were again?"

* * *

 **Talon Headquarters, Sombra's quarters**

 ** _"_** ** _Other dancers may be on the floor, dear but my eyes will see only you…only you have that magic technique, when we sway I go weak."_**

Sombra leaned back on her chair with her legs raised up on her desk, continuing to listen to the audio frequencies being displayed from inside Reaper's trenchcoat.

"Can't believe that they're actually dancing." She said to herself with a mocking smile as she reluctantly wiggles her shoulders to the music. Eventually her smile disappears and her shoulders stop moving. Her eyes narrow and a distasteful frown came across her lips.

"Tsk, shame Talon has to come around and ruin your fun with your new girlfriend Gabe. I always thought you two would make a cute couple in the end."

The hacker lifts her legs off the table and pulls her chair closer towards her desk. She raised both of her arms and presented several holographic images of Reyes, Gérard, the original Overwatch striketeam and Amélie in a ballerina dress. She leaned forward and stationed one arm on her desk, resting her chin on her palm and her eyes quickly going through these pictures. One by one, she swipes one picture and introduces another into frame. Her brain beginning to remember tiny details within these images before finally finding a hidden file that was restricted by Talon themselves.

Rolling her eyes and flipping her hair to the side, Sombra stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles. She started doing what she did best; find every secret and forbidden knowledge that organisations want to keep hidden. Talon's security systems were good, better than the one Overwatch utlised when she used to go digging around their business, but it wasn't perfect. A few digits placed at several intervals of the system and the hidden folder was practically open.

"Wonder what's in here." She murmured to herself with glee as her fingers pinched the purple folder and held it up close. She tapped it open and within it burst several sub-folders containing interesting headings.

One contained documented information on several new weapon projects Talon wished to conduct, awaiting Council confirmation.

Another was strictly private. It held many results of Moira's recent experiment of a new neurotoxin that provided deadly aftereffects to the human body (This folder will be saved later for her own curiosities).

So much information and so little time, the hacker thought to herself. Her eyes continued to scroll through these folders until two of which came into her interest. Both folders were outlined in bold text, one titled – **WIDOWMAKER** , the other – **REAPER**. These headings were highlighted in orange, which meant one thing. These folders referred to Reaper's and Widowmaker's profile, the orange headings identifying them for retrieval.

"Huh, guess Moira's making them official targets now." She said, scrolling further down. She paused briefly. Sentiment was never one of Sombra's strongest traits, nor was she going to insult herself with having such an emotion, yet she couldn't help but feel guilt and remorse for dear Gabe and tragic Amélie. Sombra cursed quietly and simply put the thoughts out of her mind.

"This has nothing to do with me…" She murmured to herself, "Guess we'll just have to see what they'll do."

Beacons started to light up in the corner of Sombra's monitor, she clicked on it to reveal a camera spying on Talon's hovership dock. She sees two hoverships being boarded by several Talon troopers, followed by several enforcers to bulk up their offence. The ships' engines roared to life – one after the other, the vehicles flew off into airspace and awaited the order to storm the Chateau.. Sombra lowered her lashes and sighed. She'd give them around ten minutes of survival around Reaper and Widowmaker, fifteen if they actually put up a fight. Scratch that, eight minutes maximum since they're trying to take them alive.

She never liked working for Talon. The pay was good, the opportunities were endless – but this was something she did for the fun of it. She couldn't care less about what Talon's goals were; she looked out for herself and only for herself. The hacker leaned back on her chair, slumped her arms to the side and sighed. She could never forget the look of Moira's snake-like eyes. For some reason it felt like Moira was after her, that she knows something about her, that if she had the proof she was willing to take her down. Sombra didn't like that, this vulnerable position. But right now wasn't the time to think about that; all she could do was see how this would play out.

* * *

 **Chateau Guillard**

"This place is a god-damned maze…"

Gabriel ascended the stairs and made a sharp turn to the left, there he was greeted with several doors – each one identical in it's classic oak pattern. He stood in front of these doors, Amélie still sound asleep in his arms, wondering which of these was a bedroom.

 _"_ _They're all guestrooms aren't they? Might as well pick one."_

The wraith heads to the door on the far left, carefully leaning Amélie's weight on one shoulder and freed one hand to turn the knob of the door, allowing him to enter. He carefully picked her legs under with his arm and walked into the room. It was dark, absent of light – yet the first thing he was introduced to was the smell. This was definitely her room. It stunk of fresh lavender and fragrance – it was getting to his head at this point. He groaned quietly as the strong scent clouded his mind but managed to find the silhouette lining of the king-sized bed perced against the center of the right wall. He slowly walked over towards the bed and gently placed her body against it. The blankets had been folded to the side and he took it upon himself to spread it across the bed, covering the entirety of Amélie's body and bed.

With a hefty sigh, Reyes relied on nothing but his instinct to find the wide curtains which obscured the room's glass pane wall. Carefully he dragged the lines which pulled the curtains open and allowed the moonlight to shine into the room. Amélie moved slightly at this action yet her eyes remained closed and her sound noises indicated that she was fast into sleep. Gabe couldn't help but smile. The room was illuminated significantly, allowing him to explore a bit more.

The room was surprisingly lackluster. There was a bookshelf at the corner wall of the room, a purple carpet draping the entirety of the floor and not to mention the decorative style of Amélie's bed, but beyond that there was nothing of interest that caught his attention. His eyes soon turned out towards the glass pane. The entire wall was fitted with glass, overlooking onto the shores of Annecy. It was a view that he could stare into for a long time. Next to Amélie's bed was a sturdy chair looking out into the view, in which Reyes was tempted to sit on.

 _"_ _It's been a long night…_ " He said to himself as he shrugged and sat down in the chair. Was it still night at this point? It was probably early in the morning, judging by the positioning of the moon. He still needed to collect his things that still lingered in the ballroom. Her boots too.

"Damn." Gabriel sighed, closing his eyes and feeling drowsy. Almost the third night he'd gone sleep deprived. He needed to get their things from downstairs, then he'd move into one of the guestrooms to stay for the night.

Well maybe after he gets their things, he'll sit here a while and admire the view. He gets up and quietly leaves the room, going downstairs and heading back to the domed space to retrieve their things.

 _"…_ _Yeah. I'll stay in her room for a bit…Look out for her…Just for a while."_

Gabe shakes his head at how much of a pathetic creep he sounded like. But the emotions stirring within his heart didn't make him think rationally, it clouded his better judgement. It didn't matter. A promise…was a promise.

 _"…_ _Just for a while."_


	6. Chapter 6: Forbidden thoughts

_**"Time and memory are true artists; they remould reality nearer to the heart's desire." - John Dewey**_

* * *

The morning rays of the sun shone brightly through her window. A slight groan escaped from her mouth as her eyes realised the sudden change in lighting. With closed lids, she blinked internally and pulls her blanket up towards her shoulders, snuggling her head into the crevice of her pillow where she attempts to shut her eyes tighter to block out the impending brightness invading through the window and onto her face. A slight ruffle of her bed brings her senses to life, she was tempted to shoot her eyes wide open and turn to find who was in her bed, yet she stopped as the slow movement of an arm slowly hug over her shoulders, _a man's arm_.

 _'_ _Gérard…'_ She thought to herself, a smile broadens across her face and with closed eyes her hand reveals itself from the blankets and holds his hand. They were rough and callused – rougher than she had remembered, most likely he had been away on a retreat with one of Overwatch's striketeams. It was an uncommon occurrence to have him visit her while she was in her estate. But it felt good, to have someone beside her again, close to her, to touch her.

"Just five more minutes my love. I'm extremely tired." She mumbles with a fatigued tone. The man shuffled closer against her back, allowing him to fully envelop his arm gently around and pulling her close to him. His breathing was steady, and his chest rose and fell against her back. His hand loosens from her grip and slowly run down her freed arm. Amélie nearly lets out a surprised yelp, the tingling sensation of skin contact shivered down her spine.

"Darling…stop." She lied through her teeth. His arm stops at her hip and begins to slip beneath her white night shirt, the rough calluses running smoothly along her silky skin. Her teeth run themselves against her bottom lip, quivering at the thought of what he was going to do next. In truth she wanted this exchange, infact – she needed this, now more than ever. She couldn't remember the last time she had been pleasured by someone else; the experience of the warmth and heat between another human being was bliss. An experience she had been neglected from for a long time.

Gradually, the man's other arm reaches beneath her laying side and cups her hefty breast, squeezing it gently as his fingers clenched ontop of the fabric of her shirt. She moaned quietly into her pillow, her fingers trying to find something to clench onto as his other hand slowly drifted to her lower region. His index finger drew circles just beneath her belly button. Amélie smirked lustfully, the tip of her canine tooth digging deeply into the soft flesh of her lower lip. His fingers edge the corner of her underwear, slipping one inside and finding itself relatively comfortable in it's warm residence. Once he had dove deeper with his fingers, he had discovered that she was already wet from his sensual caresses. Amélie hears a deep chuckle emerge from the man's throat. His husky tone brought closer as he pushed his body closer to her's, as a consequence, letting his fingers slide against the entrance of her slick womanhood.

A juicy moan escaped from her mouth, bringing a sharp smile across the man's face. As his fingers continued to slide against her entrance, his other arm groped her bountiful flesh tightly, clasping a nipple between his fingers and pinching it gently. The woman couldn't take it anymore, she jerks against him with anticipation, her teeth bared as a sinister smile sprawled across her lips and eyes shut tight to hold in her excitement. His fingers slide slowly against her shaven pussy, the tips ready to pursue further into the warm gates ahead.

Against her plump ass, she could feel the uncontrollable twitching of something pressing against it. Beneath his trunks held a longing desire just bursting to get out. With such uncontrollable lust, the man's lower fingers clenched her clit between two fingers and rubbed it between the joints. The womanly sounds of whimpering and groaning soon filled the room, accompanied by the occasional growls hovering over Amélie's ear.

"I- hrmmf, please…merde!" Her clouded mind full of lust barely allowed her to string a sentence together. She could feel how wet she had become from simply being touched down there, her juices gradually leaking from her entrance, running down her thighs and inevitably staining the bed sheets. The man grins with anticipation as he kneads the two fingers that were playing with her clit and slowly works their way down to her slit. With these two clenched fingers, they slowly press into her – and introduced to a warm, fleshy cove that drenched them in slick.

Amélie jolts at this sudden action, barely containing her cries of pleasure. His other hand still palmed over her breast, callused fingers sliding over her hard nipple and occasionally teased as he pinched and squeezed it between his fingertips. A slow rhythm emerged as the man's fingers had fully dove into her tight pussy. They retract slowly, allowing just the tips of his fingers to stay inside before pausing for several agonizing seconds – just to have them dig inside her once more. Her thighs trembled with pleasure, her ass vibrated against his throbbing appendage, her body was a vessel and his hands were on the controls.

"Faster…" She moaned. He hummed in approval, a deep and charred acknowledgement, his tone of voice wasn't familiar to her – definitely wasn't the way she had remembered Gérard's soft dialect, but now she didn't care, she only wanted this, only wanted him to touch her, use her and ravage her. He hastens the pace in which his fingers fucked her, her chamber tightening around them with every thrust and retraction he provided. Her breathing quickened, and sweat emerged all over her body. His mouth made it's way over to her ear, whispering soft and erotic notions before nipping her earlobe and playing with it against the edge of his teeth.

"Cumming…" She whispered promptly.

"What was that?" He asked sternly, letting go of her earlobe and prowling against it.

"I- mmmf, I'm cumming." She whimpered once more.

"Already?" The man teemed in delight; "It's only my fingers…we still need to get through everything else before the morning's done."

Amélie purred with anticipation, thinking about his painfully throbbing cock that still twitched against her rear. His fingers continued to work against her wet pussy, her underwear was drenched at this point, his fingers were slick with her liquids, her pillow pooled in her drool and spit.

"Cum for me Mel." He whispered clearly and distinctively with that rough tone, yet that accent…

"Cum for me…" The hoarse voice demanded once more. Amélie's eyes widened, the accent gave him away. This wasn't Gérard, no; this man had an American accent. A voice belonging to someone she knew, someone she had known.

His fingers tilted up, pressing further inside her and hitting just the right pressure points. Amélie's mind turned blank – everything replaced by the ecstasy of pleasure. She could feel everything pool towards her climax, by this point it was only a question of how long she could hold herself before falling apart. Her teeth grit into her pillow, her eyes shut to the point where tears of desire leaked from her lids, her hands finding anything to clench onto, her thighs trembling as his fingers worked harder and faster inside her. The man could feel the anticipation arriving; with a sly grin he squeezed her breast with his free arm, growling deeply into her ear – begging for her to cum for him.

"Can't hold on for much longer Mel…let go."

She struggled to hold herself back, abrupt shaking and muscle spasms erupt along her hips and legs as she had embraced her climax. Slick juices and cum spurred from her pussy, coating his fingers and palm with her lovely liquids. As her climax erupted between her legs she lets out one final cry of desire – confirming what she had yearned for deep within her heart.

"Gabriel!"

The man smirked, satisfied. Carefully he retracts his wet fingers from her pussy and licks them up slowly, savouring the taste of the fluids she produced for him.

"The bed's drenched thanks to you. It's gonna be a hassle to clean up." He says in a mellow tone.

Amélie panted breathlessly and only whimpered as a response. Gabriel leaned closer towards her, his beard scraping against her soft cheek and planted a kiss against it.

"Now. You ready for breakfast Mel?" He whispers attentively, reminding her of the throbbing hard-on pulsing against her firm ass. She rolls her eyes back and nods.

"God yes." She encouraged, turning herself over to finally face him. Dark, messy hair draped the bronze figure. Warm hazel eyes lit up as they met her's. There was no denying it now. It was him. Yet it didn't matter, her body was in control now, and her body was telling her to pull him in by his hair and kiss him. Her arms clasped around the man's rugged face, eyes narrowed to his lips, the thought of him inside her pooled within her mind and drooled at the sight of it.

His arms reach around her hips - palms planted against her firm ass, a gentle squeeze prones her to laugh in delight. Beneath these soft, silky bed sheets – she had freed his cock from his underwear and felt it's hard, flushed tip rub between her thighs. She was getting more and more wet, anticipating the second climax she was about to endure once her pussy drags him in.

 _Pull him in. And never let him go._

* * *

Widowmaker sits up from her bed, panting frantically. Her face was draped with wet clumps of hair; sweat running down her sides and the irritating feeling of the spandex of her uniform sticking to her skin. She palms her face with one hand and breathes into it. Her eyes shoot open as the realisation of wet thighs and soaked underwear instantly hit her.

"Mon dieu." She whispered beneath her breath, teeth grit and hands balling into fists. She turns her head to find herself sitting in her bedroom, where she and Gérard would sleep during days gone by. As she pondered how she had gone from the domed ballroom to here, her eyes eventually finds a dark figure sitting on the sturdy, oak chair facing the overlook window. The steady rise and fall of the figure's shoulders signaled that he was asleep, her combat boots, recon visor and rifle situated closely beside him. Alongside her arsenal also sat Reaper's breastplate and weapons, at the front was Gabriel himself slumped at the chair with his trenchcoat acting as a blanket.

Amélie smiled at how cute he looked drooping like that against the chair, as well as smiling more to knowing the fact that he was the one who probably dragged her up here and stayed all night with her. Her smile soon dimmed as she had just remembered the elaborate dream dwelling within her mind. She shakes her head and curses quietly. Quickly, she swings her legs out of the blankets and plants her bare feet against the floor. Her eyes turn towards the door to her ensuite and nods accordingly. She needed a shower; she stunk of sweat and was slick with it. Maybe a warm shower would be the thing that would cleanse her mind from those images recurring in her head.

She makes her way towards her wardrobe, opening it to reveal a row of clothes which made her narrow her eyes in anger, snarling beneath her breath. Infront of her sat a row of combat suits provided by Talon. She had been trained and conditioned as an assassin for so long that she had worn nothing out on the field besides these tight, uncomfortable pieces. She closes the wardrobe door quietly, careful not to wake the slumbering wraith. She opens another wardrobe, sighing in relief that she still had clothes, which belonged to her. A short grey shirt which she had forgotten about, the lower cut of the shirt ending just above her belly button. Next, she found a pair of underwear that wasn't in her current condition. Underneath the underwear compartment sat several jeans and dark cargo shorts. This wasn't the combination of attire Amélie was looking for, especially in the case of a possible impending Talon assault, but anything to get out of the clothes that defined her as an assassin.

Shrugging, she took the clothes and folded them against her arm and strode quickly towards her ensuite bathroom, shutting it in the process. Carefully she strips out of her wet uniform, clipping the back and allowing the top half of the suit to fall from her neck, down her shoulders and pool around her ankles. She steps away from the purple suit and hangs her clothing on several hooks attached to the wall. Naked and vulnerable, she walks into the shower – pulling the curtains closed and turned the valve of the hot water to the point where it couldn't be turned anymore. It took several moments before her cold flesh could feel even a notion of heat from the water. Amélie lets out a deep sigh – a sigh caused by the feeling of cleanliness and relaxation. Her neck was stiff with stress, causing her to roll her head around – several cracks were heard which eased her tension. Her hands run up her body, fingers making their way up her stomach, across her breasts and eventually kneading through her long, silky hair. She looks up at the showerhead, glowing yellow eyes sparkled, vapour escaping from her mouth with every deep pant she made.

 _Warm._ She thinks to herself, scrubbing her thighs from her own slick and cum. Her dark, orchid skin tingled with the feeling of heat. Oh how she missed the senses. For too long she had undergone countless conditioning under Talon's facilities. For too long was she neglected the sense of warmth, the cold, the sense of emotion, to react like a human being, the warmth of another's touch, the yearning for another person's passion…the neglect of love and the neglect of pleasure.

Her hands freeze at her upper thigh, slowly driving their direction towards the entrance of her cunt. Amélie's eyes narrow, her lips purse with uncertainty, her hands tremble against her pussy and her teeth grip the edge of her bottom lip. Her mind drives back to the dream she had. Everything felt so real, full of emotion and experience. Two fingers split her lips apart, exposing her hot puffy cunt. With another hand, two clenched fingers press against her entrance, causing her to huff in excitement. She was already dripping with anticipation. Amongst the pouring water from the showerhead, her pussy had been dripping juices and once more drenching her thighs with her liquid.

Her fingers draw towards her clit – teasing it beyond belief, rubbing it slowly and clenching it between her finger's joints. Amélie jolts with pleasure and lust, banging her forearm against the wall and resting her forehead against it. Panting and breathless she dove deeper, clenching two fingers and allowing them to work into her pussy. Like her dream, her moans were wild, followed by occasional whimpers – all signs of physical desertion.

 _"_ _Fuckkk…"_ She swore into her arm, nipping tightly into her lower lip. Her knees grew weak, shaking wearily beneath her own pleasure. She pulls her fingers out, each one slick with her liquids – washed away quickly by the running water. With lowered lashes and quivering teeth, she snarled quietly – wanting more than just cold fingers inside her.

 _"_ _Gérard…"_ She thinks to herself, eyes watering at the thought of what she has done. She raises her hands up to her face, mumbling swears in French at herself. Her back hits the wall and slides down until she was slumped at the corner of the shower. She turns her head to the side, tears trickling down the side of her face, quickly swiping them away with her arm and allowing the water to rejuvenate her composure. Eyes soon became puffy from her crying, and her cunt was still yearning for satisfaction – a pleasure she started.

"Pathetic…" She murmured to the running water trickling all over her body.

"How far I've fallen…"

 **Meanwhile**

Gabriel groans in pain as his eyes shoot open to the sound of trickling water. His back was aching from his slumped posture against the chair. His arms pull himself up from his state and carefully flipped his coat off his body. Two fingers were placed against his eyes and squeezed them gently.

"Damn…" Reyes grunts huskily and looks out the overview. The horizon was sparked with a pinkish hue, turning the dark sky into a brighter shade of light blue and contrasting the entire complexion of the ocean.

"Sun's comin' out."

The sounds of running water ceases, making Gabriel turn his head towards the ensuite door. His eyes quickly turn back to Amélie's bed, finding the blankets flipped to the side and empty.

 _"_ _She has a damned ensuite in her room? You've gotta be kidding me."_ Reyes chuckled, shaking his head.

After a few moments he hears the door click and swing open. He turns his head to find Amélie sporting a cute short-sleeved shirt, the bottom of the shirt ending just above her stomach. What's more, her perky breasts pushed the shirt outward – molding their shape gracefully beneath the dark fabric. Covering her hips and thighs were a pair of black khaki shorts, contrasting her long legs and fitting her rear-end. Barefoot and heavy-stepped she walks out of the ensuite, eyes closed and her hands drying her insanely long hair with a white towel.

"Holy shit." Reyes murmurs, eyes ogling at her bare skin.

Amélie opens her eyes; they widened at the sight of him being awake and instantly referred him back to her dreams. Eventually they softened and she cracked an awkward smile.

"Morning." She says with a trembling tone.

"Morning." He replies back, equally awkward and unsteady.

An unsettling silence hung inside the room for several moments – causing both of them to start talking to break the silence. They both pause mid-sentence; laughing it off and caused Amélie to extend an arm, allowing Gabriel to start first.

"I was gonna use the one of the guest rooms to stay the night after settling you in bed. But I thought I'd look out for you for a while before doing that." Gabriel cocked his head to the side, placing a hand behind his neck and rubbing the tense area.

"Little did I know, I find out I stayed the night in your room. Hope you didn't mind."

Amélie chuckles, closing her eyes and throwing the towel to the side. She walked towards the foot of her bed and settled herself down upon it, one leg crossed over the other and her arms raised up to try and tie the mess of hair hanging down across her back.

"No. I don't mind at all." She smiled warmly, flirting with the idea of having him share the bed with her.

While she was tying her hair into the bundled ponytail she had before she showered, Gabe just sat there, trying to find something else to say to avoid the awkward silence. He darts his tongue out, wetting his lips – his dry throat urging for a shot of liquor to run down.

"Cute shirt." He says awkwardly. In his mind he was banging his head against the wall. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Amélie looks down at her shirt, then glanced back up to him with a smile.

"It's an old shirt. I've grown a bit since I've last worn it." She says tugging the bottom of the shirt down a bit, only to have it recline back up to where it was – above her belly button.

"Uh huh…" Reyes replied. He sighed groggily and wiped his face with both hands.

"What's the time?" Amélie asks flinging her ponytail back and allowing it to rest against the line of her spine.

Gabriel shifted in his seat; he didn't have a watch so he simply made a judgment depending on the state of the sky and the sun.

"I'd say it's around five or six in the morning."

"Early." She says with lowered eyes.

Gabe hums in agreement, eyes still heavy from lack of sleep. He slowly stood up from the chair and smiled at the woman sitting at the foot of her bed.

"Hey Mel…" He started, "You don't mind if I call you Mel do you?"

Amélie's eyes widened and stared at him for several moments. Not from the mere fact that he had derived a nickname for her, the simple three letter trifle in the middle of her name. A ** _mél_** ie. She was more stumped to being recalled back to her dream. How had she known that he would address her by this name before he even mentioned it in the first place?

She slowly rubs her fingers in her hair and silently sighs. She preps her head back up to him and returned his smile, "I don't mind at all. In fact…I think it's cute."

 _'_ _Well you are cute.'_ Reyes wanted to say to her, cringing at how cheesy it sounded.

"Mind if I use your bathroom? Or any of the other bathrooms really. Haven't showered since yesterday."

"Go right ahead. There are towels in the compartment next to the mirror."

Gabe nods in appreciation, folding his coat around the back of the chair and made his way into her ensuite – locking the door behind him. Reyes snarls quietly once he's in there. Slowly he tugs his combat shirt off his sweaty body – he reeked of his own musk. The whole room was still steaming from Amélie's recent shower, _lavender_. He was beginning to dread that scent. At times he was wondering if he was even acting normally around her at this point. Heat crept up within him as he was reminded of her just sitting there in that tight shirt and shorts presenting her exquisite physique. His eyes briefly make their way toward the bathroom mirror, his reflection reminding him of the countless scars embedded across his body. Some old, some new, all unforgettable.

He unbuckles the belt which held his combat pants and steps out from them, leaving him in nothing but his boxers – which soon after would be discarded to the side. He steps into the shower, his nostrils flaring as the still wavering steam of warm vapour contained her scent. His mind spins around the tight space – his hand reaches for one of the valves. Hot, cold. It didn't matter. He turned one of them and allowed the water to meet his skin. Hazel eyes stared at the ground, his teeth grinding against each other as he yearned for Amélie. The shirt she was wearing left very little to the imagination – but it just covered enough to the point where she was practically teasing him. He could see her now, sitting against the foot of her bed, stretching as the sun slowly rose over the horizon, escaping from the ocean and bringing life to the world. Her shirt raising up as she lifts her arms for the maximum effect of her stretch, revealing her underboobs.

Gabriel chuckles at the thought, _That would only make me lose control._

His eyes draw away from the ground – only to realise that he had a raging hard on between his legs. He sighed and looked up to the ceiling.

"God damn it Gérard…damn you for marrying her. Damn you for introducing me to her in the first place."

He plants his hands against the wall, the vision of Amélie still lingering in his mind. Every second he thought of her, it was another second of being reminded of the throbbing boner begging for attention. This needed to stop. Gabe realised that. He decided to just focus on scrubbing the sweat off his body, maybe then it would clear his head.

And that's what he did. Hot and horny. He cleaned himself up… _trying to clean the visions of what he wanted to do with her_.

* * *

Amélie laid on her back staring at her ceiling for the entire duration of Gabriel's shower. She kept referring herself back to what she had just dreamt, and what that had meant for her. Was it something she really wanted? She had been thinking about it since when they were dancing downstairs in the ballroom before she had passed out. She sighs, placing two of her hands against her face and cursing into them. A few seconds later she allows her arms to lay on the side and continued to stare at the dull ceiling.

He's tall.

 _Gérard was too._

Handsome.

 _Larcroix brought out the best in you._

Physically attractive.

 _You're married to him._

…Genuinely cares about me.

 _…_

..

.

Did Gérard ever pay attention to her like Gabriel has? Perhaps once. Yet that day had long since past, that day, the day of their wedding – was the last she had seen of her beloved Gérard before work and time gradually displaced the two lovers, as if they had become shadows of their former selves. Perhaps that was all she was after Talon's experiments on her. An empty, dead, unfeeling husk of a woman – not even deserving of love nor passion. Perhaps she was already like that, even before Talon abducted her.

Her eyes blink rapidly – returning from her train of thought as the sounds of running water were put to a halt. She slowly raises herself upright and cradles her arms over her knee. She arches an eyebrow as the subtle word, _Shit! ,_ rung from within the bathrrom. A few moments later, Gabriel unlocks the door and slowly peeks his head out.

"Hey Mel…this may sound weird. But you don't happen to have any spare men's clothes do ya? Mine's all covered in sweat."

Amélie widens her eyes but merely laughs. In fact, she was laughing for quite a while. Gabriel narrows his eyes and furrows his brows, "Come on, what's so funny?"

Amélie snickers for a few more seconds before lowering her lashes, "Nothing…nothing. It's just that you're probably standing behind that door naked, surrounded by a pool of dirty clothing."

She sits up from the bed and begins to wander towards a separate wardrobe on the other side of the room. Gabriel wonders what was so funny about being naked behind her ensuite door. In fact he was more nervous that he couldn't get rid of the persistent erection that resided between his legs.

As Amélie goes through the wardrobe, her eyes narrow and her teeth grip over the bottom of her lip. He really is naked behind that door. She could only imagine what was situated beyond. She smiles, heart fluttering at the thought. She darts the tip of her tongue out, wetting her lips and dragging out a few pieces of clothing for him to wear.

"I couldn't find anything that's casual – Gérard never was one for…what was the word? Décontracté?"

She approached the door; Gabe's head was still peeking from the side with that adorable look of nervousness. She extended her arm forward, within her hand were two coat hangers, a white dress shirt and padded navy suit pants folded within them. The man's eyes stared at the clothing for a few moments before begrudgingly accepting them. Better wear the suit than drench himself in his own sweat. He extends an arm and takes the hooks of the hangers.

Amélie spots the deep scars that ran deeper along the crevices of his forearm and inclining towards his muscular bicep. Her eyes were dim, as if they were mourning. Gabriel grabs the hooks of the hangers – only to notice Amélie staring at his arm. He looked down to his arm, only to realise what she was staring at.

"Are those…" Amélie paused, taking a moment to process the impaired flesh. "…Did they…?"

"Hurt?" Reyes said for her, taking the clothes and hanging them to the hook next to the door. He disappears away from the door, trying to get dressed. Amélie took several steps forward, closer towards the door and stopped just outside – the warm steam and vapour meeting her cool face.

"They're reminders of a time long past Mel…I tend not to dwell on the thought too often."

The soft rustling of clothes being displaced from the hanger met the woman's ears, steadily followed by the abrupt shuffling of pants being fitted.

"And they did hurt. Amélie. It took time for scars like these to heal. I have too many of these things to count." Reyes takes the belt from his combat pants and wedges them between the loops of his pants.

Amélie jolts up suddenly as Gabe swings the door open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top button undone, his muscles tempting the durability of the shirt's threads. It was obvious that the thing was tight, definitely too small for his size. It was a good thing that his pants were a good fit; you can almost not notice the cringe on Reyes' face as he adjusts his groin and pads out the creases along his thighs.

"Truth be told…" He began as he walked back to the pile of black clothing that were damp with sweat, picking them up by the bundle and walking out of the room.

"…the pain's still there. Albeit not physically, but it's there."

"Anything I can do that might ease that pain?" Amélie asks brightly, her tone shifting from that cold emotionless state – to one he had remembered long ago. The bright tone of the Amélie Larcroix that was happy.

"Hmph, no. Nothing that's already been tried. But thanks for suggesting." Gabe says with a smile, hair still wet and curled infront of his face, "Well maybe a large assortment of painkillers might do the trick." He finally ends with a brief chuckle.

She smiles at him, then looks at the bundle of clothes in his arms.

"We can put those in the washer downstairs, after that the dryer can take care of the rest. There are a pair of pattened loafers that was ordered by Gérard several years ago, a shame he never wore them though. Perhaps you would be his size?"

She couldn't be serious, not only did he have to put up with this tight ass thing, he had to wear Gérard's shoes now? Reyes took the time to think about this – in all honesty he'd rather wear his sweaty combat gear rather than fit himself into these fine things. But what the hell – now that he's put this stuff of, combat boots really wouldn't fit the attire at all. Amélie handed him a pair of black socks, which he simply accepted without too much fuss as he sat down on the sturdy chair he had slept on and placed his clothes aside to put them on, before finally stepping into the shoes that Amélie had mentioned.

Reyes stood up and wondered what he looked like. His eyes wander from his shoes up to Amélie who was standing there with a satisfied grin across her face.

"Eh bien, vous êtes resplendissant." She says with a lowered lashes, her grin still prominent as she uttered those words.

"Come again?" Reyes replied with an arched brow.

"You look wonderful Gabriel. It does fit you well. I trust the shoes don't pinch too much?"

"Well…I can say, that they are surprisingly comfy. Wouldn't mind having one of these on my shoe stand."

"Perhaps a sense of fashion does indeed exist within you Gabriel, ever consider a career within fashion design or editor?"

Gabriel laughs at her statement, picking up his gear and heading towards the door which led outside the bedroom, "That would be the day. Mama Reyes might even approve of that job."

Gabe walks up to the door and opens it with one hand, while the other still held onto his clothing, "This place is like a maze Mel, mind leading me to the washing machine?"

Amélie smiles, nodding sincerely. "Of course."

Gabriel leaves the room, with Amélie following closely behind. As they descend the stairs Amélie props up a personal question.

"I don't know much about your mother – or your family in general. If it's not too rash or touchy, may I ask how they are doing?"

Gabriel's eyes look at her from the corner. He simply shook his head and smirked, "I don't mind at all. Though it's kind of a long story."

"I've got time."

"Hmph. Alright then."

The trip to and from the laundry room was filled with chatter, sincerity and empathy. Amélie knew that there was a reason that Gabriel was special. That somehow even after everything he had done to Overwatch during and after it's downfall – she found it easy to simply forgive those actions and see him as a man reborn. She was in no position to judge him anyway. When under Talon's influence – the only emotion she could experience was the thrill of the kill, the flow of blood released from her target brought special satisfaction to her icy cold heart. She didn't want to admit it, but she unknowingly enjoyed it. Nevertheless, perhaps she could forgive him because they were very much alike.

One man, who sacrificed everything – even nearly costing his life to a belief, which rendered his body broken and abominable. On the flip side, a woman who was searching for something to hope for, to latch onto what little concept of hope she had left. In a way, they were both sinners – both sinners on the same side of a coin.

But even sinners need forgiveness.

…even sinners need atonement.


End file.
